I remember the scent of every bath bomb I ever used. The effluvia as they hit the water - a sweetness so hard-boiled all you could do was vomit it up. They were bliss. Relaxation in a hand grenade.
I used to synch the high points of lysergamide euphoria to hit me when I was in the bath. Perhaps the bombs dragged me in deeper - perhaps I just thought myself into a whirlpool and let it suck me under, like Alice down the rabbit hole - down down, derring down, diving down to Camden town. The whiptails of stones and the particulates of dirt rushing past my features - I could find them if I just let my whiskers uncoil. Down down, derring down, diving down to hell and hound. Lucifer can’t get me if I steer my fairy boat against the waves, if the maelstrom can’t take me out and round.
I rail against the skies maroon, I place my fist against the ground. Down down, derring down, beat the wardrums, love the sound.
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)