worms
- anna
- May 23, 2024
- 3 min read
i was born with worms under my skin
tiny worms
just bigger than a hair
they wriggle
move
multiply
and i can tune them out
but not their teeth.
not when they bite.
they bite,
all those tiny teeth pinching under my skin
in my scalp
in my toes
in my nose
my arms
in places i could never reach
they are biting
trying to escape from their prison
the bites burn
and they don’t stop
when the first shot is fired all the worms jump to action
when i join the worms on their journey to break free
i follow their bites scratching and itching
breaking down the wall from my end
it doesn’t help.
but it is all i can do.
when they are biting the world outside this war doesn’t exist.
i can’t hear,
i don’t even know if i can see,
all i know is they are biting.
all i know is how those teeth feel.
everywhere.
-
the doctors say i don’t have worms under my skin
they say i’m missing a protein in my skin
that makes my skin not grow right
makes it weak.
they say the worms are named eczema, and I just have a severe kind.
the doctors want to be the ones to save me
(but i want them to burn the worms out of me)
they give me creams, pills, supplements
i take the pills
and quiet the need to scratch at the bites
but it never hurts the worms
the worms get stronger with every bite they take
as i've searched i've found nothing that can stop them.
all i want to do is run.
lock a door.
take off all my clothes.
and itch.
itch forever.
itch everywhere.
all i want is
to be between two giant cat scratching poles spinning in a human sized car wash.
I want the doctors to start a fire in my body, a fire the worms can not survive.
(i was in love once
one of the kindest things he could do for me was itch me and never stop)
i want to escape from my skin
jump
leave it to the worms
they won’t care when blotches take over
when the skin gets so dry it crackles and snaps
i want to set the worms free
zip off my skin, break open their prison
but i sit here
in a very crowded room
trying to pretend that the worms aren’t making me loose my mind
i twitch
fingers magnetized to the newest assault of bites
trying to pretend
failing to pretend
i’ll take a pill when i get home
one that helps me ignore the worms
(but i always feel them)
it will make me better at pretending.
the worms are smart.
they are the kind of enemy that is unseen,
their attacks invisible.
and only my efforts
are seen.
the stark red lines
the patches growing,
my hands pulling at the skin burning on my face before i can stop them.
the problem looks like it's me. i am my own enemy.
but they don't feel.
they can't know.
the worms made me a fussy child
i wasn’t easily set as ease
i was under attack
an unseen enemy unafraid of attacking a child.
they know
when you are invisible,
you don't get blamed.
you can't be burned at the stake for your torture of children.
you can attack,
attack
attack
attack
attack
and hide smugly behind your victim
out of sight.
-
when it was so bad
i googled "poems about eczema'
no one talked about the worms
but they talked about pain.
and one was prefaced by the words
a warrior?
that is not a label i've worn except in jest
that brought solace as my i tried to control my twitching fingers.
maybe it's not nothing.
maybe the enemy is blamed.
maybe
i can be called
a warrior.
-
i have a friend,
with big tubs of steroid cream that he puts on every night like clockwork
we talk about our skin like it's the weather
"oh yeah it's been bad lately"
i'm always surprised that we talk so candidly about it,
he is a highly private person,
the wrong question or the wrong crowd and you'll lose your access
but he'll talk about it like it's the weather.
he isn't scared of TSW
(i am)
he is happy to use steroids daily,
healing the wounds.
i am scared,
so scared.
i've seen videos of these incredible people
with a stunning beauty to their eyes
contrasted by skin like a desert.
