the worm

 

the room still rotates

with my head in the center

of that carousel

 

I feel it behind my eyes

that worm crawling around 

the one that gets me to drink

crawls onto my tongue

gets me to speak

not my words

his words

the ones that feed him

the ones I don’t want to hear

 

my floor is covered

trash and clothes

stacked up

composting

how long will they stay?

 

I blow my nose

into the trash can

into whatever I can find

but the taste stays

 

hope I can find a lid

to close that bottle

I know it rolled into that pile

down on the floor

the one the worm made

not me, the worm

the one who lays there

crawls and eats

sits on my breath

 

the one who knows

that I will listen

to every word he says

until my stomach curls

and I want him out

I push him out

knowing he’ll be back

right now I feel him tighten

around the side of my skull

I never know what he wants

I’ll just feel it

and that’s how I know

 

I want to stop feeling him crawl

I want him out

I know I put him there, 

but I want him out

 

did I really put him there?

or was it my dad? 

and everyone before him

who lived with that same worm

who crawled back there

kept himself fed

eating until he can’t move

he’s fed but never full