Then, amongst wall idols, the spine stacked a diary unlocked by weathered rock posters over beige stapled ceiling floor like architecture songs writing the soundtrack, my den and cassettes discs and records, my unfolding in hooks, then waves, taking refuge in acoustic exorcism through phases when posters and black hair shimmered the cacophony inside allayed in the days of smoking in chains, long drags like bridges, lukewarm air dancing, the haze ashing evidence of mulled thoughts, notes spent and chords rehashed in the chorus of all night, taking refuge in other cities and paces