I crawl into Cheerio boxes and 

ramen noodle cups looking 

for serotonin.

But I fall through, and find myself back

in bed, little spoon to depression.

My mind’s on quarantine,

I pick at the prison until

my elbows bleed. 

Sit on the couch

for eighteen hours, I named all

the dust-bunnies on the coffee table.

I eat so much I’m worried

my knees will burst.

Titled poems missing a body, I chew

on the keyboard.

Outgrown eyebrows try to

strangle me, I thank

them for being so kind.