[poem] from a hallway, sometime after twelve

I wish I could explain
this sudden shifting -- lilting sideways step
from tentatively fine to thoroughly insane.
-- no, that's a lie; no: try again--
there's no price dear enough
for me to draw a map of how
to reach this place; and should I so desire
in any case, I'd fail: because
the labyrinth that keeps me in
is the selfsame as that
which locks you surely out.
There is no key.
Cartography is all to no avail.
All that is left is counting space
between the heart and beat
in which to pray.

---

I seem to have gone a little bit mad. I am hoping a few days of hermiting will sort me out. Nothing needs doing; just a heads-up.

A note

When I say "poetry teaches me how to breathe", or "poetry reminds me how to breathe", I'm not actually being metaphorical.

( For breath-related anxiety symptoms, etc. )

(Also, doing better than last night. <3)