POEMS

Bugs

I don't know where my mind went.
I don't know if my thoughts
Are my thoughts anymore.
They're like separated ink.
My friends are no longer my friends;
They're in my head
And they hurt me.
They put the bugs in the walls
And under my skin
In my hair.
He watches me —
In the dark —
And hurts me
If I don't listen.
I don't like him;
I want him to leave.
I listen to him
Why won't he listen to me?
I can hear the bugs whenever he's near.
I can feel them on my skin.
The grusome and bothersome
Tickle and scatter.
The silhouette of his body
His fingers touching me.
And touching me.
And touching me.
I want him to stop.
But he won't.
He never will.
My blood is red
And poisoned.
Warm and thick.
Yet cold.
I'm so cold.
Time doesn't matter anymore.
He will always be here.
Hurting me.
And that's okay.