I shun the light,
Creep in the gloom like a toad, a white worm,
Tortured by the faintest gleam of sun.
I hear...
Oh God, if you could only know the things I hear!
I hear the lake sucking at the walls,
I hear bats breathing
I hear the sky moan to join with the slime!
And this,
All this like thunder to me,
Like thunder!
My senses scream at me:
Sight... Touch... Sight... Touch...
Sound and Taste... Sound and Scent,
All torment and claw at my sanity.
There is no hiding place for me,
For even in the quietest of my rooms,
I hear the walls in conversation;
I hear the palpitations of my heart;
I feel all that lives and does not move
And know it knows my feeling.
My only peace lies in my music
And then only because it drowns out
All other sounds and souls...
You may think that I am mad, but it is not so.
My senses reel beneath the blow of feathers falling
And more...
But no, I see you do not understand.