Parasite

I hate it when people use my name.

They do not have the right, they do not feel the shame.

My brain is a bomb, and, baby, it ticks.

Maybe I’m poisoned by my politics.

Yet, I hate silence more than I should,

I chase it with a knife around my neighborhood.

The anxiety flashes through me in sharp crashes,

And acidic tears get stuck to my lashes.

I hate it when people try to make me cry.

Haven’t they heard?

I left my soul out there to die.

My brain is a parasite, always sucking me dry,

Chasing after substances that make me high.

-Jackie