Interactions with them leave bitter taste on my tongue

And my skin itches as if contaminated so I scratch in

Insubordinate anger as my skin blazes pink, with a

Smattering of white lines pasted as icing on the cake.

I want to scrub the scent, the sight, the sounds of them

From my traitorous body – extinguish all traces.

They hiss in reasonable tones, eroding my ears with

Septic acid. I shut my eyes and bile rises in distaste.

For they never know when to stop.