Gothic Spa
written by: Emma Wells
I dip my head beneath the surface
lose it there
sucked, held tight by liquid hands
allowing charcoal waters
to enwrap my mind.
Breathing as a fish
with gilled cheeks,
fluttering in watery waves;
I weave seaweed shores
where darkness is new vision.
I allow myself to calm
losing humanistic hearts…
Emotions bleed away…
as washing dirty hands
in purifying, obsidian waters.
A gothic spa
with exclusivity promised;
I’m a A-list celebrity
floating high upon onyx wings
of herbal meditation
where nourishing oils
soak water-born feathers.
Daily detritus is cleansed,
exfoliated away by scales;
dead skin is nibbled free,
stripping skin cells
then rewrapping
in balmy steam.
Zen-like, I effortlessly tread waters,
breathing deeper…
unlocking blocked energy
as removed road traffic signs
from busy, arterial roads…
Spirit pours, forming rivulets
around my scaly, sequinned tail;
a new engine, rewired to turbo.
I’m a gothic mermaid
in no need of pedicures;
iridescent scales
glimmer with black desire:
nocturnally resplendent
like Dracula’s wives.
I paint watery canvases
with midnight hues,
morphing with moonlight.
Gothically reborn.
- Buttermere - October 22, 2025
- Gothic Spa - October 4, 2025
- Darkness - June 25, 2025
