I think I’m finally losing my mind And if I haven’t yet, I need to try harder For this prick filled iron maiden is not fit for inhabitation By a human kind

Loneliness sounds like… “Why can’t you feel all the wriggling worms in that blanket?” “Why can’t you feel all the needles in that cushion?” “Why can’t you feel all the beetles eating you alive in that bed?” “Why can’t you feel all the broken glass in that soup?” * * * * * “Why can’t you feel all the three cornered thistles in that incense?” “Why can’t you feel all the knives in that settee?” “Why can’t you feel all the biting sand in that café?” “Why can’t you feel all the pins in that embrace?” * * * * * “Why can’t you feel the hessian hiding in that…