I have an infection
It does not have a name or diagnosis
It is contagious but it’s homesick
It scampers off to prey then crawls back to me
It is also a disease because I say it is
And like a parasite: it feeds on me like a leech
It depends on me like a new-born to its mother’s breast
It loves me like a pet to its only surviving master
My beloved pet parasite does not have a face
But it resembles a black blotch sewn to my chest
A tad to the left, over my cleavage
It came down as fast as a rain drop and landed with a modest splat
It first hibernated on its landing strip
Then tore at my blouse as I read Sylvia
It sunk slowly in to the rhythm of Nirvana
Evaded my beating heart
Attacked my lungs and is currently attempting
To chow its way down my flesh till all I’m left
Is that same heart, a toe and a growing strand of my soft brown hair
On certain nights, my darling pet disease inches its way across my floor
Squeezes through the cracks on my wall and disguises itself
As a flower motif on my Persian carpet
It proficiently superimposes itself as a fugly shade of brown
On a background of red
It stands out like a stain on an intricate piece of woven art
A black speckle on a white canvas
A long strand of fur on a porcelain mannequin
It screams out to me through the peeling corners of the rug
As it races itself up my feet as I step on it
As I create a habitat out of my parasite sewn-on pet disease
It watches me make my morning cup of coffee a lighter shade of brown it accomplished on my red Persian carpet
Then aspires to do a better job at blending into my white chest
Once I’m dead, my darling pet infection will suck the ground I’m buried in
Then munches on my remains till I’m nothing
It devours condolence flowers left by my feet
Chomps on my weathered tombstone
Heartily gobbles my casket
And consumes all remaining memories of my existence
What then remains is a conspicuous hole
For any passerby to plunge in and die with a broken neck
So my darling pet parasite will keep leeching till the end of time
Chatboard (0)