i'm no good at this part
at endless moments without clarity
at nighttime streams of consciousness
(streams of misery, of melting bright colors
down rain-soaked finger-spread windowpanes)
you can only yell "leave me alone" into the walls
so many times
before the multitude of reverberations get to you,
the multitude of fortifications
of hollow structures
that we move through,
that we move within
it's a nautilus we inhabit,
a calcium labyrinth of chambers
where the torture we endure is the
aching whispers of the sea