my rose-tinted life –
immune to the most powerful
of mental pesticides I can afford –
this intruder gnaws
and digests away
at the foundation of my prudence.
Its refuse and drool an acid,
corroding the remnants of sense left to me.
Succumb, and I fall to driveling and rubbish,
to confusion and false nostalgia,
to self-loathing and mental beatings,
to denial and weeping,
Then to the healing,
the proper pesticide is delivered
and all but one alien thought is eradicated.
And then that one begins to feed.