For weeks I watched the

spider web cracks spread from my forehead,

dividing into small principalities

those things desired: eyes, nose, ears, and finally

lips, before moving on to the rest of me.

While the mirror—that heartless judge,

showed every failure, every

defeat I was unable to prevent.

My nose, that feature long despised,

was the first to go, crumbling into dust

like cheap plaster—and I laughed,

a terrible animal-like

cackle that burst from my lips.

I laughed as my head, then

my arms, then my legs, then finally

my torso crumbled into nothing—nothing but

dust on the wind and a wide gaping mouth

laughing.