the silence of the night creeps in on all sides and all l may hear is the crickets patterned chirp of conversation billowing between my concrete walls
They were built up to be impenetrable -- So how is this noise grazing my earlobe with its incessant hum?
I can hear them because the walls of my house are structure, [they keep out light; They're strong] while the walls of my mind are scattered and confused, In a maze not even the North Star could guide a mouse out of-- and they don't keep out noise
they keep out simplest rationality and logic because the walls might as well be beer goggles, blinding me from an unbiased situation. Because my perception tints the picture with rose (or blood) colored glasses toggling my experience with notions: imaginary.