Why is it whenever in a tub I always feel the sense of danger, like I’m relaxing in an elevator shaft. 

I spend my minutes soaking while I picture the soft wood and plaster surrounding my porcelain cocoon soak as well. The old wood softening like a sponge slowly welling up puttifying itself. The plaster and piping that seals the edges of my bath are probable peeling as I write, releasing a residue like lube ready to send me thrusting down. I picture the apartment below and it’s occupants, what they’re doing weather they would be hurt or witness me falling through their ceiling naked and screaming. I know from past wrestling matches with this old building and it’s aging piping that not much more than a litre and my below neighbours home would become the new ring, washing with toilet water and unease. So the idea of me and my warm water surroundings shooting down my floor and into my neighbors living room is not far off. I wonder what I would do, if the mini tidal wave created within my bath would lift me up as I fell and save me from serious harm as I crashed onto a couch or dinning table. The more I picture my battles and losses against the soft beams of this apartment building the more I fear my constant anxiety stricken predictions will come true. Bath bombs no longer seem appropriate as any added ammunition and im sure to break the last strand holding me above safe in my own unflattering lit bathroom. No matter I am here, slowly pruning and brooding over possible futures, attempting to relax while picturing death by bathtub is not as easy as it may sound.