Madness

If you touch me, my skin will crawl,and underneath my bones, behind my flesh:numbers, infinite numbers made of pixelslink together like metal chainsgrounding an insane dog.And under the multiplying heat of scarvesI give up my struggle and instead,kneel into a pool until only my ears surfaceamong fresh grass and pearls.You may take a reflection of meto light the cell that you call homeIn the presence of the teacher, beg for handsfor that is all that’s left of meto hold on to.