They ring incessantly,
the peel of little tin bells.
Dark clouds eddying under eyelids.
The metallic taste of sanguine
dry lips, and tongue—
from this Insomnia.
I hear the high-pitched whine of copper wires,
feel the gnaw of
bones burn as they disintegrate
in my jaw and hands.
Joints nestled in the curvature of hips
Eroding.
In the lightless waves of night.
Metronomic intervals
tick away, time
I register in Sensory
Overload.