Quiet time now:
The white walls loom hazily
through my cauterised sheets

I am nobody here, but for the digits
on my bespoke bracelet, a timer
on the wall promising trinkets of

lucidity. It trembles in my spine,
and dare I hide the truth from the warden,
stumbles to the

mortuary. Where did my mind venture?
I might have promised a teacup of
temperance with Luce himself,

or dared to in a dream, but
my bloodwork was inconsolable, and
visions vague.