i wash my hands clean until they bleed. no one can see this disease, and somehow, i cannot rid of it. my hands will never be clean of the things i have done.
I wash my hands and wash my hands and wash my hands. I’d stop if they’d let me, but that would be too easy. It must be done just right. Below the right knuckle, then inbetween the right pinky and right ring finger, then above the left middle finger. Wait, or was it the left pointer finger? Oh well, here we go again…
I need to do my laundry today, shoulda done it yesterday… no more boxers for meee… It kinda reminds me of Firefly the show, the character Wash, the pilot?
So the baby was soft in my hands, and I did its hair first, because really, what is there to clean but the hair? The rest– the soft solid crusts of jam– came off on the first dunking. But the hair was matted and sweetsmelling, and I combed it apart with my fingers, and watered it to wisps.
as it falls off, my skin changes
dark brooding bugs
thoughts thrust on my body
ideas shadowed onto me
as light hits my face
it all fades
it all crumbles
and falls to the ground
clean clean reborn
Can’t think of the shutters I used to clean in a bucket back in Washington D.C., when the bucket water used to get on my apron and wrinkle my fingers. Back with the children before Tim went to work for the post office and Lucy went off with that man. Back before these wrinkles.
wash and dry, the cycle repeats, but why not let it be dirty?
sometimes the best way to be is far from clean and dainty
Black is dirty, black is good, since when is it to be bad?
I don’t understand how white can be bland and love is supposed to be evil
removal of debris will result in cleanliness
acceptance
specs of dust are considered to be communist
anything off color off center and out of sync
should be removed
fit in
be clean
be shiny!
Washington had very quickly had his codename shortened to Wash. Colorado was the first person to call him that. he had drawled out to him in his thick southern accent and said, “Wash, I was supposed to get Epsilon, but I got Upsilon.” His green eyes had been sorrowful as he spoke to the bedridden, half-mad freelancer, “I am so sorry Wash,”
it’s something to get clean again,
to make the background white and
maybe just a little pit plain.
but that’s always been the safe route,
when things are boring.
things to place the
pieces over.
swish swish the sound of the skirt rubbing against the washing board on the bank of the river. this is how we used to wash clothes, she said. this is how i remember them washing clothes on the aqua plastic bending over crookedly.
i wash my clothes this way every day. in my soapy bucket. on my washboard. it is simple. and beautiful. this is my life. i hang them to dry. and the wind blows through softly. and the sun shines. it warms my clothes as it does my face. and life is simple. and life is good.
Sometimes I wash away all the evidence and no one will ever know because its so washed out that you can barely see the lines where it used to be the rain came and washed it all away.
i hate washing clothes. it’s my least favorite chore to do. my boss does the triple fold method. he folds them before putting them into the washer, then before the dryer and then again after they dry. but he has to get everything hung with 90 seconds or he has do do it all over again.
Wash. I wake up. I wash my face. I wash my teeth. I wash my mouth. I wash the sweat. I wash the words, the worries, the woes of the day. When I wash. Was there a time when I hadn’t need to wash?
Wash. Wash dirty linen in public. As in, share all your dirty little secrets. Your fights. Your fantasies and how you act them out. All the sins you’ve committed in the last one week. or day. Wash your linen in public.
Phew.. liStening tO wasH.. sUnday cOmes to my mind, dt sUppose to be my ‘Laundry day’..
Wash, waSh nd waSh…. sUndays happEn to b ppl’s relaxing day bUt here thEy r da mOst hEctic days ! :/
I need to wash away whatever this cover is, this thing that is holding everything back. It’s keeping it all in, all these things I need to tell you, but I’m scared.
I just got the word wash, I don’t really want to write abouot it again. I’ll tell you what I see right now:
Sydney
My feet and legs
my room
bulletin board
computer
phone
glasses
retainer
face masks
sports bras
towels
purple hair
Washing the dishes. I’m really lazy at the moment. To lazy to wash my dish directly after use. So i just leave them at the basin for some time and at least the next day one of my flatmates washed them for me.
wash. oh i hate washing the dishes, they make my hands smell bad. i like washing clothes sometimes, then my clothes smell very good. i want an earth friendly fabric detergent and such but my parents do not allow me to buy it. that is very sad. ): washing your hands is very good because it removes bacteria
My hands are bleeding and blistered from my compulsion. Every time I look at you, every time I say something I shouldn’t. Every time I think about a person who should no longer matter I HAVE to wash my hands. They are cracked and bloody.
Joe and I went to the basement laundry room. I had 4 or 5 loads to wash and he said that he had some laundry too. His bag didn’t seem big enough but I didn’t pay much attention. I dumped my load on the floor to sort it and when I stood up Joe grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him.
I watched a documentary the other day in which a group of young Christians go to a homeless cove in Seattle and wash the feet of the destitute. It was incredibly touching and it made me want to go wash my husband’s feet to show him how deeply I love him.
my mother used to spin me around in the water at the beach, dunking me under and pulling me back up, swishing me around and chanting “washing machine, washing machine”.
He slowly poured the water over his head, washing the blood from his face. The water turned pink as it fell on him. Over and over he repeated this motion until all traces of filth were removed from his body.
hose in the backyard. insert dog here. or children i suppose. or bathers. or buckets.
i wash my hands clean until they bleed. no one can see this disease, and somehow, i cannot rid of it. my hands will never be clean of the things i have done.
Today I washed my face. Today I washed my hands. Today I washed my feet, and my arms and back. But I still feel not… clean. Not dirty, just not clean.
Wash away those sins.
Wash away whatever makes us human, our mistakes.
Cleaned of identity,
Pure.
I wash my hands and wash my hands and wash my hands. I’d stop if they’d let me, but that would be too easy. It must be done just right. Below the right knuckle, then inbetween the right pinky and right ring finger, then above the left middle finger. Wait, or was it the left pointer finger? Oh well, here we go again…
I need to do my laundry today, shoulda done it yesterday… no more boxers for meee… It kinda reminds me of Firefly the show, the character Wash, the pilot?
i washed the laundry, something i had never done before. that’s when i noticed how i felt – out of place, i felt like an intruder in my own body.
So the baby was soft in my hands, and I did its hair first, because really, what is there to clean but the hair? The rest– the soft solid crusts of jam– came off on the first dunking. But the hair was matted and sweetsmelling, and I combed it apart with my fingers, and watered it to wisps.
as it falls off, my skin changes
dark brooding bugs
thoughts thrust on my body
ideas shadowed onto me
as light hits my face
it all fades
it all crumbles
and falls to the ground
clean clean reborn
Can’t think of the shutters I used to clean in a bucket back in Washington D.C., when the bucket water used to get on my apron and wrinkle my fingers. Back with the children before Tim went to work for the post office and Lucy went off with that man. Back before these wrinkles.
wash and dry, the cycle repeats, but why not let it be dirty?
sometimes the best way to be is far from clean and dainty
Black is dirty, black is good, since when is it to be bad?
I don’t understand how white can be bland and love is supposed to be evil
removal of debris will result in cleanliness
acceptance
specs of dust are considered to be communist
anything off color off center and out of sync
should be removed
fit in
be clean
be shiny!
Wash means you are cleaning something.
As in she washed ( cleaned)the clothes.
-ing keeps infections away. =)
Washington had very quickly had his codename shortened to Wash. Colorado was the first person to call him that. he had drawled out to him in his thick southern accent and said, “Wash, I was supposed to get Epsilon, but I got Upsilon.” His green eyes had been sorrowful as he spoke to the bedridden, half-mad freelancer, “I am so sorry Wash,”
I use more water to wash my hands in a day, than I actually drink. Sorry kids in Africa.
to clean (:
to clean with maybe a sponge or a rag and possibly some type of cleaner like soap or windex.
it’s something to get clean again,
to make the background white and
maybe just a little pit plain.
but that’s always been the safe route,
when things are boring.
things to place the
pieces over.
swish swish the sound of the skirt rubbing against the washing board on the bank of the river. this is how we used to wash clothes, she said. this is how i remember them washing clothes on the aqua plastic bending over crookedly.
I’ll wash away your pain like the dirt in my laundry. Then we’ll start all over again.
i wash my clothes this way every day. in my soapy bucket. on my washboard. it is simple. and beautiful. this is my life. i hang them to dry. and the wind blows through softly. and the sun shines. it warms my clothes as it does my face. and life is simple. and life is good.
Sometimes I wash away all the evidence and no one will ever know because its so washed out that you can barely see the lines where it used to be the rain came and washed it all away.
i hate washing clothes. it’s my least favorite chore to do. my boss does the triple fold method. he folds them before putting them into the washer, then before the dryer and then again after they dry. but he has to get everything hung with 90 seconds or he has do do it all over again.
Wash. I wake up. I wash my face. I wash my teeth. I wash my mouth. I wash the sweat. I wash the words, the worries, the woes of the day. When I wash. Was there a time when I hadn’t need to wash?
Wash. Wash dirty linen in public. As in, share all your dirty little secrets. Your fights. Your fantasies and how you act them out. All the sins you’ve committed in the last one week. or day. Wash your linen in public.
Phew.. liStening tO wasH.. sUnday cOmes to my mind, dt sUppose to be my ‘Laundry day’..
Wash, waSh nd waSh…. sUndays happEn to b ppl’s relaxing day bUt here thEy r da mOst hEctic days ! :/
I wash my hands each day, several times a day. It is ritualistic, in it’s own way. It cleanses me. Of dirt. Of bad times. It renews my soul.
“You convince yourself that you want it, but you don’t know;
You keep on trying to wash the blood from your hands, but it won’t go”
—MGMT
I need to wash away whatever this cover is, this thing that is holding everything back. It’s keeping it all in, all these things I need to tell you, but I’m scared.
I just got the word wash, I don’t really want to write abouot it again. I’ll tell you what I see right now:
Sydney
My feet and legs
my room
bulletin board
computer
phone
glasses
retainer
face masks
sports bras
towels
purple hair
Washing the dishes. I’m really lazy at the moment. To lazy to wash my dish directly after use. So i just leave them at the basin for some time and at least the next day one of my flatmates washed them for me.
wash. oh i hate washing the dishes, they make my hands smell bad. i like washing clothes sometimes, then my clothes smell very good. i want an earth friendly fabric detergent and such but my parents do not allow me to buy it. that is very sad. ): washing your hands is very good because it removes bacteria
My hands are bleeding and blistered from my compulsion. Every time I look at you, every time I say something I shouldn’t. Every time I think about a person who should no longer matter I HAVE to wash my hands. They are cracked and bloody.
Joe and I went to the basement laundry room. I had 4 or 5 loads to wash and he said that he had some laundry too. His bag didn’t seem big enough but I didn’t pay much attention. I dumped my load on the floor to sort it and when I stood up Joe grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him.
his hair. how do you tell a guy, that he needs to wash his hair?
Lord, wash away the sins these men have bestowed upon me and my unborn child. Forgive them.
I watched a documentary the other day in which a group of young Christians go to a homeless cove in Seattle and wash the feet of the destitute. It was incredibly touching and it made me want to go wash my husband’s feet to show him how deeply I love him.
my mother used to spin me around in the water at the beach, dunking me under and pulling me back up, swishing me around and chanting “washing machine, washing machine”.
He slowly poured the water over his head, washing the blood from his face. The water turned pink as it fell on him. Over and over he repeated this motion until all traces of filth were removed from his body.