Drained

My brain has turned to cotton. I want to wrap myself in a gauze bandage and hide. I have melancholy in my legs, fear in my hair follicles; my arms are heavy as though all the energy in my body has drifted down to my hands. They feel fat, like I should be able to cut them open and drain it all out.

Nothing feels normal on me. All my parts are misshapen. I feel like I should cry, but there is a desert in my tear ducts and so I won't.