I think I have bed bugs.

And I think they might be trying
To gnaw
Away
A couple layers of skin
To show me what's really concealed
Underneath.
I think they're trying to show
That something has been
Changing.

Sometimes I think I hear earwigs
Scuttle in my hair, at night
Whispering, whispering
Thoughts best left alone, that
I told myself I wouldn't hear
Anymore.

And they tell me
There's spiders
Weaving thoughts in my brain.
Connecting memories
With feelings
That don't rhyme.
"A little torment never
Hurt anyone," the earwigs say
While the spiders are cheating me
Out of a healing sleep.

I could try to squash them;
But I don't think I'm the type.
I guess they win
They can have the bed.