A long way back

I want to crawl inside
This forest of dead
Lightbulbs, unravel
Into isn’t, but I can’t be
Sure the falling sea of
Voices won’t drown me, and
I’m exhausted from all
The listening. The drone
Of the traffic. The hum
Of air conditioning.
The pinging of the pipe
In the wall to the right
Of my bed that is not
My bed is not made
For me is not the world
I believe in but a thing
I’ve learned to live with
Because I can’t erase you.
Can’t face the few derelict
Shadows edging inward,
While these brackish hands
Stir lies like swallows
Circling into no thing,
Into I won’t hear them,
Into my name is not
This porous world where
The best we can do is
Sing back the fragments
We refused to touch.