I am my reflection's marionette,
and it has turned me inside out.

I am bones and bones and bones.
my skin has collapsed in on itself:
a body like a star that's been crushed
underneath the weight of its weight.

my world is upside down.

all the blood has rushed to my head,
forcing the illness to vacate its home.
the malignant weakness pours into my limbs
until they are too heavy to lift without the strings.
cut me open and only shame comes out.

numbers begin where I last felt alive,
and end when I do.