You break past my shell.
Like a spitting cobra, I
attack. You shake me
off. You're armour, and woeful.
My friend.

Deep in the chasms of what I call
fondly my corruption
you tear
the ropes of black thought. You tear
til I am someone else. Someone happier.

In barren bones, you see worth.
In convulsions of genius, loneliness.

My friend, you are a creature of which
I have no real conception. My friend,
you lavish your time on me, you spoil
me with contentment. And I
exult.

I would rather
spin a bitter existence than take
joy in what you give me. But
I am selfish.
Perhaps
one day you will find
some shadow in your mind, your untainted garden,
and I, taking my tape will seal
your sadness away, too.