eating away at my psyche and sanity,
pecking away, burrowing deep inside
and nesting atop the stem,
digging a winter home,
incubating hoards of blood-toxins,
the whole brood ready to flood me
at the drop of a pin.
It's finally feeding time.
I have to wonder,
will there be anything left this time?
I don't know.
I can only hope.