I swallow the rain and the soap from your skin, A dark, hollow throat where the cycles begin. I take what is finished, the used and the old, But clog me with secrets, and watch me unfold. I pull from your energy, leaving you dry, A slow, steady leak as the hours go by.

Along the stairs I creep, a secret path I keep. You grip me tight at night, I while I guide you on your way, up and down everyday and night.

My first four, another word for excrement. My last three, an immense, indefinite period of time. Together, a place that may smell of excrement and people may feel like they’ve been there for an immense, indefinite period of time.

I jingle and slide through the snow bringing joy to the night, but misstep my homophone, and it’s quite a fright. One lets you ride with Santa, all cozy and bright, The other- well, you definitely don’t want to do that alright?

A dash, a sprinkle, a tiny amount, Using too much means your victory won't count. Once you reveal it, it can't be undone, You still don't know it? Then you might need one.