parasite

the worst bit about parasites is that they become part of us. they get inside and it becomes difficult to get them out without taking a part of ourselves with them, leading to a strange and awful combination of loss aversion that makes you hesitant to tear them out, and self-alienation that makes you feel less like yourself. when an enemy has got inside, there's always sacrifice, whether you have to cut out a hunk of your flesh or scorch part of your home. parasites also tend to evade detection; to camouflage, confuse and hide. sometimes they permanently become part of you. did you know, roughly 10% of our DNA is viral? from hundreds of millions of years of co-evolution with animals, little remnants that migrated into our genes and managed to stay.

There was a time i was full of parasites...

The bugs in my bed,
they would come out at night,
get under the sheets with me
and sup from my blood,
while i dreamt of drowning 
in a crunchy sea of little exoskeletons.
So i didn't sleep.

The bugs in my dick,
they would lie and wait
until i was weak
and then they'd come out
just under the frenulum, like an evil flower
and make me afraid to ever touch again,
to ever reach out, to even start talking.

So i resigned myself to always be alone.

The bugs in my ear,

they had banged too hard and degraded my drum,

so the surgeon had to throw it away

and fashion one new from some nearby material,

but i knew beyond doubt that the bugs were still there,
waiting for weakness
to come round again.

The surgery had failed.
So i stopped listening.

The bug in my heart,
it had worn through my spirit

after years of loving; chronically and terminally,
this parasitoid that yearned for me so,
and wanted - demanded - that i stay, stay, stay,
when more than anything i needed to be free.

But the bug had connived such complete menticide,

manipulating my mind beyond authenticity and self-preservation,
to the point of dishonesty and self-deception.
So i dug my heels in deeper.

The bugs in my brain,
they'd scuttle round the gyri and sulci of my cortex,
while i lay in bed till the late afternoon,
and re-mind me of how paralysed i was.
"yes, you're trapped", they'd say, over and over
"and how are you going to get out?"
"i don't know", i'd say, wanting it all to just melt away
"we know a way", they'd say.
So i made some plans, just in case.

parasites will wait till you're at your weakest to strike

they're brutal like that
they don't give a fuck

your weakness is their time to shine

and start taking up residence in your most private of places

you'll come back home, exhausted

and they're sitting in your favourite chair

they're eating all the food in your fridge

they're fucking your wife and having all the fun

i eventually got out of this downward spiral
i burned my bed and half of my possessions
i found people who understood
i got a hearing aid and i let people cater to me
i severed the ties and stood on my own
i threw away the plans and got rid of the implements

i cut out the contaminated flesh and gave myself time to heal

i knew i would never be the same again

but also, i knew that wouldn't stop me