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.