Somehow, that's always in bed, and sleep, in night waking with a fright.

Washed over like splashes of boiling water, cinching my skin.

Where have I been?

To a place far away in some clandestine bay, visions of grandeur turned delusions of

something that I was supposed to obey.

A lifestyle, a code, an ode.

So stealthy through the night my conscience wakes with a fright.

Words uttered before resounding on the walls.

Paper thin, and yet no noise gets in.

This silence makes me quiver.

Pin dropped on the floor, the cold floor, the pin dropped.

I cannot see it anymore.

Disguised amongst the marble mass, cord stretched out on the floor.

That flutter and stutter in my belly butter goes.

Only if for a moment I cannot ride with this fear on my back.

Feel the cords go slack.

Six miles out and two from heart attack.

Static, static, stop motion, feeling every beat in this poisonous potion.

Run, run, run, wake slain.

This isn't.

Spread apart and neithetized, numb by separation and incantation of things to come.

Ratchet and rink, it's insane how much is in this tank.

...