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drifting
melancholy
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not even feeling like i'm here
my eyes focus
but the image doesn't register
nothing gets though
and i'm protected

i'm inside
nothing can touch me
a protective sphere
an insubstantial wall
of lost consciousness
no
don't hammer on it
a crack

a moth flutters across my skin
the sensation reaches me but doesn't matter
harsh sounds seem to penetrate
but my arms still stay loose
moaning keening sound
beauty in noise
swells to the surface
that surrounds me

rumbling feel of sound
grates along it
my eyelids move
on their own volition

the wall squeezes
a tight sensation
fetal feral ball
curling up on myself
constricted
straining to break
met by the smooth
soothing action of nothingness again