Some evil heavy thing stole into my body, stretching skin and organs to settle comfortably in the hollow forming. I know because it weighs down, in cohorts with the steel and cement, the subways the walkways the grays. Constant heaviness seeing me to a place where my eyelashes are seized, my lids separated by fingers belonging to the subjects of dreams, who only run off. What they leave me to contend with is a pool of sticking sweat and dozens of mosquito bites. So I will have to break the skin.