Dealing. I'm always just dealing. Strewn about, pulled too thin. Thinking about what’s about to rip. "I think I know you from a past life." Being cautious, always watching my back. I’ve been attracted to you like a fly to a mucus trap. I’ve always been wrestling your internal pain. Woke up from dreams where I undressed you from a priestly gown. I played with dangerous toys and suffered a catastrophe. It began with deafness and shut me down, now with dreadful shrieks. The lights go out. The house shakes and implodes on itself. Concave-mirrored walls, my own head has bred its very own version of distress.