I was mailed in a suitcase, I was thrown into the dark to reckon with my thoughts. why do I sleep? at the funeral they told me to wake up. they shook my shoulders. I climbed out and replaced myself with sticks. I threw in a match and closed the lid. the imprint my body had left expanded until it was the whole world, the universe, a plan, a fragment of the map I spit into your palm. all of it burning.