the building blocks of a ribcage

i spend the days stacking patterns crosswise endless through the air. the sweat paints itself out from my skin. it is a brain runner. when i sleep i can see it all. the colors are fluorescent, blazing, pointing into my eyes. the fans spin themselves chaotic. the rooftops watch the sky. and in my head i am somewhere else. the windows burst like a thousand sparrows and the words fill my throat with fire. i watch the sun turn itself soft and swallow the sea and i am learning history. and it is all a fiction in the face of the truth.