Unclog Bath Tub -

You step back. The tub gleams, empty and expectant. For now, the path is clear. The water can run, and so can you. You have reached into the dark, pulled out the debris of your own becoming, and restored the spiral.

Every bath is a ritual of erasure. You step in to wash away the grit of the sidewalk, the weight of a conversation that curdled at 2:00 PM, the invisible film of anxiety that sticks to your shoulders like a second shroud. You pour lavender and Epsom salts, you light a candle, you lean back. But the water does not lie. While you have been trying to purify the surface, something beneath has been collecting: the long hairs shed during seasons of stress, the congealed oils of comfort food, the fine silt of dead skin cells you forgot you were losing. unclog bath tub

And that, if you let it be, is holy.

And out comes the creature.

Because here is the secret the plumbers know and the poets forget: Evidence that you have been here, living in this body, shedding its proof, trying and failing to wash it all away. The drain is not a garbage disposal for the soul. It is a threshold. And thresholds, left untended, will always fill with the quiet weight of what we refuse to release. You step back