Stitch This

They turned the volume down, I think? It suddenly all went dim

And I remember thinking its not me, it definitely must be them

The cotton wool bound round my chords

My ears were underwater

I tried to turn it up again

But it just got far fraughter

And now I’ve moved inside myself

I curl into my silence

The space inside my mind, I see

Is not Swiss cheese,

nor cobweb hung

But Is my shell, my echo room

My sound proofed secret garden.