Termites eat my sleep,
devour my dreams,
chew through my stability,
nibble away the foundations
of my future.
At night I hear them.
Crick, crick. So soft
it could be the winding tick
of my thoughts.
Tiny white insects
crawl deep inside,
steal my strength,
leave me hollow,
a paper facade.
Will the rain dissolve me?
Will I crumble in the wind?
I’m paralysed,
afraid to move,
perfect on the outside,
rotten within.
