Worms

There are worms inside my brain

Feeding off of what once was living colour

And beauty and prettier things

As the good things begin their decay, 

The larvae feast.

I don’t resist

They have already won.

There is no sense in picking each one up

And looking at it for what it is,

Deciphering what it craves

And trying kill it.

For they each have their own taste

They each crave specific memoirs

And I have too many dead thoughts,

Which is now dead space,

To attempt to re-live them and replace. 

One buries into extinct lovers

The rotting thoughts left from things uncompleted

From loose ends never tired

From late-night phone calls

And waking up next to him touching my skin

His fingertips tracing my back;

It eats only the happiness and the parts romanticized

It consumes only the in-betweens

And spits out the anguish from its bitter taste.

It leaves me the misery.

Another worm chews through my childhood

Memories of my mother waving me to school

The smell of I’m-sorry-pancakes and forgive-me-hugs

Devoured

Leaving behind the screaming nights

The smell of liquor on her breath and the glass shattered on the oak floors.

The hurtful things are set aside:

Another nematode that is only satisfied by goodness

I am made conscious of what remains

You sabotage everything good coming to you

I give up.

I can’t help you.

And I am reminded why I don’t speak to her like I used to.

Other worms have woven their way through the grey matter

Into the past strewn with laughter

That I no longer call home;

It is already in their digestion.

I remember every rejection and unrequited love

Every professional who couldn’t diagnose me

And the tears on my dad’s face the night I told him

I don’t want to live anymore.

Then there is you

Which the worms have not yet found

Too engrossed with my other muses

I keep you hidden deep within my nervous system

Bits of you between every sulcus

Hiding on the other side of each synapse,

Regretting the day they smell your goodness

And the joy you have allowed.

Your fragrance of coffee and kisses

And sex and flowers and

I know I am exhausting time;

It won’t be long

Before they discover you too

And I lose you

Too

And they obliterate everything I cherished.

The only company I am left with

Are the decomposers.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is the kind of writing I aspire to write. This is what I call really reaching down & capturing those places that pour forth with strong authentic feelings. Most consider me a strong writer, I never have writer's block, but I just can't reach down deep like you do in this poem. I love the "worm" analogy. I love how you show the worms eating all the good memories & leaving only bad. This is exactly how the damaged psyche works, so the worms are a strong analogy for our own inner life editor. I love the specificity of the details you use to SHOW instead of tell what the "bad memories" are. These are well-expressed & relatable & powerfully-stated. This is an awesome poem for showing the hurting heart but without undue drama. I kinda like your crisp slightly-detached delivery (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie