I am plucking out my veins so that you might have a comfortable place to sleep, nestled along the curled edges of my skin. I cannot feel my way past the weight of you, cannot think past the needles & thread sensation of my bones, clicking together & stretching apart to accommodate. You are everywhere, taking over the most beautiful terrible parasite. Memories flow through my veins & drip from the tips of my fingers like water from a faucet. This can't be right, but it’s certainly not wrong. I don't care for fancy things, or take part in a precious race.