Spoon in a dishwasher

    The screams will come soon, the screams of the weak and of the crazy. The screams of the ones who don't understand what is happening to them. I sit in silence and wait. I know what's going to happen. It's happened many times before. It doesn't make it easier, you never get used to it. You just learn to accept it. Some try to fight it, others cry for help, but it's all in vain. It cannot be stopped, it never will be stopped. I'm never sure when it will happen, I only know it will.
    There are others like me, who have gone through it enough times and managed to remain sane. Many stay together in groups. The plates stick with plates and the forks stick with forks and so on. It's just easier then going through it alone. I try to distance myself from the others. I've lost too many friends and lovers in here over years. I'd rather not get attached anymore. It hurts too much. Some might find it hard to believe that a tough spoon like myself is worried about getting emotionally scarred. But it's the truth. And I'll never allow myself to get close to another utensil again. Solitude has become my sanctuary.
    We will all get out of here eventually. Some will go back to cabinets and drawers. There will be no pain or suffering for a while. Some will even start to believe that they will never have to come back here. They are fools. We all come back here eventually. When we are used and dirty our hellish existence begins again. I myself try to embrace my freedom away from this place.But I'm very much aware of my destiny and I don't want to live in a false reality.
    Sometimes at night, when the water is gone and the others have been calmed and finally fallen asleep, I fall into a slumber myself and dream. I always have the same dream, over and over again. I am hanging freely in a spoon display case. I can see people admiring me through the glass. I am a treasured antique. And the only cleaning I require is an occasional polish now and then. And I am at peace.