She peels off her jeans
and tosses them into the hamper,
right onto her clothes from yesterday
and the day before that
and the day before that,
and so on.
A mass of yesterday\'s stink
clinging to her self.
She tells herself she\'ll wash them tomorrow,
only to add another layer of grime
before she climbs into bed
and pulls the blanket over her head,
counting the bruises on her skin
twelve times
until her eyes can\'t look anymore.