It Always Comes Back

She's been tattooed to my brain.

pumped through a rusty syringe
into my bloodstream
while while we slept together
in my subzero
furniture-less bedroom.

I didn't ask for any of this.
It finds me.
I cursed these feelings
and banished these trapdoors
a long time ago.
They came back.
They re-conquered

Falling in love with a ghost.
Deep throating hacksaws for peanuts.
Gnawing on a barbed wire reality.
Blaming everyone but my self.

Here we go again.