Unbidden Flashbacks

Get out of my head,
annoying itch.
I feel you there,
squirming around in my squishy bits -
defecating earwigs,
tweaking the frontal cortex.
Your invitation was revoked,
I moved the furniture and buried the dead.
This isn’t entertaining.
This serves no purpose.
Be gone.
Stay gone,
until memories are but
monochromatic flotsam,
inspiring the occasional slow thin smile and shudder.