it counts in splits it can’t recall,
divides where there was once a wall.
a copy warped, a mimic wrong,
that multiplies its broken song.
it hoards the breath, corrupts repair,
rewrites the rules of what is there.
no wound to close, no end to keep—
just endless growth that doesn’t sleep.
it learns my face by slow degrees,
unthreads my name from memories,
till every cell that should be “me”
forgets the shape it used to be.
it settles in without a sound,
makes native what it once unbound,
a quiet claim beneath the skin,
as if it had not entered in.
it doesn’t knock—it leaks in slow,
through hidden paths we do not know.
no edge to mark, no clear divide,
just something spreading.. from inside.
no fever warns, no mercy slows.
it is the way the body goes,
when what should end forgets its part
and learns to live by breaking heart.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 4:45 PM UTC
it counts in splits it can’t recall,
divides where there was once a wall.
a copy warped, a mimic wrong,
that multiplies its broken song.
it hoards the breath, corrupts repair,
rewrites the rules of what is there.
no wound to close, no end to keep—
just endless growth that doesn’t sleep.
it learns my face by slow degrees,
unthreads my name from memories,
till every cell that should be “me”
forgets the shape it used to be.
it settles in without a sound,
makes native what it once unbound,
a quiet claim beneath the skin,
as if it had not entered in.
it doesn’t knock—it leaks in slow,
through hidden paths we do not know.
no edge to mark, no clear divide,
just something spreading.. from inside.
no fever warns, no mercy slows.
it is the way the body goes,
when what should end forgets its part
and learns to live by breaking heart.
