Dishwasher

It cleans. That's what it does. Erasing my mind. The etchings stay. Forever having an affect on me. The aren't obvious and maybe the memories don't even exist. Jet Dry doesn't help. They are here.

Like a spider connecting to everything I reach out. Clearing my mind, I reach out. All gone when out of no where I feel the web on my face.

Don't respond I say. Fear. Back away. Clean it. Wash it.