There's comfort in sadness

deep familiararity grown from years of companionship

bond strengthened by solitude.

 

There's safety in solitude

its infinite reach enfolds me in the warm wrinkles of time

protected in the empty holes of space.

 

There's freedom in space

room to stretch and stretch in all directions at once

confident in the endless surroundings

in the endless prison.

 

A prison of my own making

I, the prisnor falsely accused 

I, the juror biased and unfair

I, the judge unwilling to trust my own judgment

I, the prosecutor quick to pounce on all weakness

I, the loser of my own case against myself

 

I, the builder of this cage

I, the maker of the key

I, the designer of the lock

I,

I,

I.

 

I cannot grant myself parol.

I must atone my sins.

my crimes

my cries 

my lies

 

There is no I in lonely

But in lonely there is one.

 

But I cannot let my right hand know what my left is doing.

My paul, then my saul,

my soul lay confined 

It took no serpent to taunt

no apple to tempt

only glory and fame

I just wanted my name

in the papers.

I just wanted my name

in the stars.

 

And somewhere I lost it.

I lost the garden

the beautiful world I had grown inside me.

I picked the apple and ate the serpent

and spent the years spitting up worms.

 

Worms grew out of porportion

wriggling through thoughts

through dreams

through oceans and oceans of truth

but it only takes one worm to ruin the orchard.

 

It only takes one.