You return to me –
An importunate, festering boil –
An unremitting, bubbling pustule –
A pulsing, oozing
Mortified flesh of memory –
You split your tongue
To speak – in twain –
Of false devotions –
Saccharine professions
Corroded by fetid confessions –
I breathe their stench
In my sleep
While the dreams you hold captive
Beg for their release.