Such traps I carefully planted in my path.
Never to escape from this prison I built.
The fear, it swells and professes
That devising your own devices
Froths your own delicious demises.
So I sit guarding a gate
I shall never let myself past.
Songs of manumission
And Hymns of Dereliction of Duty
Are all the accompaniment that I have.
Except for that seasoned and spiced knowledge
That in all manner of matter
I was utterly undone
By the nothingness I know so well,
My one, constant and true lullaby.