None
I cut myself into a cave for you,
but you are quiet. You are shy:
an only child, you still hide
from blame and invitations
and you constantly deny
all suitors. I will not be
defied: you are the tongue
I plunge into this begging
razorblade so brightened
by my spiderweb of blood,
you are the one: you are
the venom in the serpent
I have tried not to become,
my Lord. You are the one. 
A Note on “Quarantine”
Sext
None
Nocturne
Matins