your memory is a worm in the dirt

Your memory is a worm in the dirt
stuck in a hole in my head.

You're no longer a person,
but have grown into my mind,
like a demon or bad habit -
an impulse but with a blurry image.

Patterns manifest from trigger effects;
Images flash here or there,
as obscure as sensations,
though somehow they remain...

Lingering throughout the day,
a dulled distant dream,
once vulgar and scathing -
the daily pinpricks still remain:

I see a date on the screen,
that was before you were with me.
I see a girl on the street,
She is young and something obscene.
I see a date on the screen,
that was before you were with me.
Now you've grown and matured:
You're another woman,
who needs a man.
You're just a nymph to me,
on the porno screen.