Metamorphosis

How do I say

my stomach is in knots?

How do I say

my brain is rotten?

How do I say

my warm, beating heart,

full of insect wings,

turned icy cold?

How do I say:

hold me.

Overnight,

I grew a shiny black hump. I turned into a beetle.

All six feet

want to run,

like horses with wide eyes.

All four eyes

want to glance away,

like a man caught doing crime.

How can I say it?

I can’t even say it.

Stop throwing apples at me.