Eyes rolling wildly in a senseless head,
only the whites.
Eyelids drawn tightly like bruised flower petals.
A movieprojector mind flashes soundless films:
Dark waters, dry roads infested by screaming dust horrors,
And small mammals with their heads replaced by television sets.
Quiet troubling phrases escape his mouth,
Upsetting the sleep of the conscious, when they go home at night.
They wonder hopefully if he is getting better. No. His oblivious world of jungle thunder and soaring violin melodies
Keep the pain (bloodthirsty wolves) bearable.
He thinks he'll stay there.

My English teacher went pretty much nuts over this one too. My dad too, when I recited it, badly, for him. He especially liked the line about 'upsetting the sleep of the conscious, when they go home at night...', he said it was haunting, or something like that. My English teacher says I'm good at imagery. I'm glad.