I’m interested in the way your mind is locked. I see no chain. There are no keys. Your simple steadfast determination to be deaf and blind is holding the door shut in its hands. It is never off-guard. Your mind-beast is strange. It doesn't have eyelids. Nor lips or a tongue. It doesn’t breathe or have heartbeat. [It is made of wood. Deep roots like veins bind it where it stands. It’s grown into the door. It is the door. The beast is the door and it refuses to open. The beast is the door and it’s killing your mind; one dead thought one dead dream at a time.]