I'll take three.

The water prickes my frozen toes like tiny sewing needles, ready to hem the dry cracks in my skin. Tippy toes, go up on the tippy toes. My scalp is raised so close to the shower head that I imagine the tiniest hairs being singed. The smoke would turn into steam and find comfort inside of my pores. Desperate to stop this disgusting process, I began to drown my pores in soap; ripping off every dead cell on my body. After the pores came the disgusting dead hair hanging past my eyes. Washing becomes religion; only more habitual, more than Sunday. After I’m done I decide to lay on the bathtub floor and find pleasure in gaping hole between my legs.  Thrusting and shaking, my body lies. For what seems hours I sprawl my body here. Right before I feel the urge to explode, I notice a fallen hair or extra baggage ouch; all to keep m y mind off of pleasure. I just lie and say it happened and move on with the rest of my life. Maybe I just don’t know what pleasure is.