Incision & Drainage

There is a disease
That corrupts the core
Swelling pustules
Filled with hate
A putrid scent
Overwhelms the senses
Clouds judgement
Gnaws the conscience.
A disgusting shadow
Vile immorality
A nagging pain
So deep within
Ugly, irregular
Undying, malignant
Angry, Infected
Selfish and proud

This part of me
It needs incision
My bleeding thoughts
Must be cauterized.
Drain out the scum
This foul perception
The burning desire
The spreading cancer
The old is gone,
the new has come
Burnt flesh, remnants
Left on the ground.
I bite my tongue
Block out the pain
A sharp tipped scalpel
Cut myself free

When at last I
Awake to smell of petrichor
Cleansed of filth
Cured of disease
I walk away
And leave behind
A rotten carcass
My former self