every now and then
I can feel loneliness welling up in my stomach like
a kind of hunger

lonely tugs at my hand
pulls at the threads of my dignity

lonely curls at the hem of my dress
purses at my lips
and knocks at the glass of my mirror
lonely becomes the perfume I spritz on my wrists
on the pulse of my throat
lonely becomes the whine in my voice
the scent of my hair
the taste of my skin

my words run red
infected with greed
my composure staggers along the lines
with my sobriety

i am cursing the walls that I built by hand
impeccable masonry

my castle
my penitentiary