Marble Showers.

I pressed a furrowed forehead and shaking hands against cool marble. I kept thinking about becoming part of the stone. Eyes closed, emerging into freckled slabs, rooted in time like a stagnant statue. Exerted spirits sloughed their way between peppered fragments. I let them go. Naked and frozen, I bridged against the shower's wall. Lights out, blanketing sight from needy senses. Rain fell over the arching skeleton, the aching skeleton. The scent of musty quarries filled gaping wounds. I imagined morning dew sliding through silver leaves. I imagined tumbling brooks cascading over gleaming fish scales. Raw skin sizzled under searing droplets, but I didn't flinch. I became the marble stone, peeled from swathes of somberness. Calmly, I stood. The wild breezes settled.