Nothing here adds up in a tidy, story-like way, and that seems to be the point. The speaker begins with "my own feelings" and describes them as "raw guarded," clumsy ("all thumbs"), like a dictionary they can't quite use. The title, "Self Taught," fits: this is someone trying to learn their own emotions without a teacher, and fumbling the lesson.
The images pile up and glitch. Trees and orchards glow, a "tremendous horror" goes down the drain, and "the usual each and every day" suggests routine grinding on regardless. The repeated words, like "enormous," "red," "fuck," "guarded drain," come back slightly altered, as if the speaker is circling something they can't face directly. The phrase "looking backwards and selling / december to may" hints at time being traded away or stuck in a loop.
The mood is anxious, angry, and half-numb. Yet the ending is simple: "to finally leave / through the doorway." After all the noise, there's a quiet wish for escape.