My skull cracks
Against the wall at
Every-distinct-slam
Of the cell doors.

Patients’ constant banter
Jackhammers into my brain.

The wailing coerces
With the others
That only I know.

Like a screeching symphony,
Trumpeters blare supplemented
By shrieking fiddlers.

The players manipulate
Their instruments
With insane skill.

My skull is the crucial
Percussionist.

I beat my drum
For it is the head drum.

My drum snares
Me as the finale approaches.

I beat upon it
Until the skin wears thin.

It snaps. I snap.

The finale approaches.
The orchestra is silenced.