And from every angle and from every corner from every spot of light too many to tell the surround sound vibration of life a constant barrage until it just seems unviable to breathe. Sorry, no can do. Please don’t touch. I hurt all over at most when I cannot feel. They get it wrong. The word—numb. Never been numb. I can hear the constant scream of The Big Bang the violent whimper so I become a little deaf. I feel every brush and grievous trace of propinquity and all too much for nerve-endings raw as meat. And in my mind a maelstrom my mind Charybdis thorough flicks of anger torrents deep as water drowns of woken daydreams binding bits of an elemental attraction much like love. The calluses run deep where they must. The feeling has not gone it’s just distracted overcome. Too much of an unjudgeable thing. There you go, right? Maybe you understand maybe you don’t. Either way stop flapping. It hurts to listen. It hurts to talk. Just staying where I am this act of being takes a monumental act of will. I am here being. It seems a miracle. And from every corner one more test. Every angle one more try. Every spot of light a flashing visionary fear. Too many things to tell too many ways to tell it. Damn near a miracle you might say but that’d be preposterous.