between night-terrors I sicken eyes blacken lead anvil assurance my arms must dislocate in order to bring it up and over the tapping and the creeping insects amass surrounding walls the room as judge and jury my instinct is to climb hands and feet so small so painfully they morph see now my adhesive pads my designated placement my predicament exclusive screening to be viewed from obtuse angle only momentary enlightenment the mugging of incarceration feverish writhing gripping damp cotton I am bound I am twisted with tangled truths a burning spiral a rope-marked wrist.