Menagerie 6.

The visions of B.
The nightmare visions, the daylit nightmares of his insipid neuroses.
His entire face become an ear, so great an ear as to pick up every word spoken anywhere.
The face.
The face.
When here on the bed--
Continuing to violate him in his Isolation Module, his visions, his hauntings.
Mother.
Mother sternly rebuking.
Mother insisting she predicted the torments thus unfurling.
Should have never,
Should have never--
The visions of B.,
consumed by ends
real and imagined.

The visions like white text
printed on the black matte finish
of The Bold Printed Sign,
the forever-ground,
the gestalted skull.