I want to stick myself in a tumble dryer

Whirl around

Listening 

To the rhythmic beat of the drum 

As I am tossed like the salad

That I threw up earlier

I woosh round the dryer

If I had anything in my stomach

I would've painted 

This sanctuary 

In hues of brown and yellow and orange

And sometimes red

I would've painted a piece in the style of Jackson Pollock

And decorated it with chunks

Of food

Like a child doing finger art

And when I was finished painting the dryer with my insides

I would climb out

And I would've shrunk 

Because that's what dryers do

They shrink you

And I would be small 

And paper thin

Transparent 

No longer opaque