There is a certain sort
of safety
found in self-induced-love-
deprivation.
a nice cold shell of
lovelessness -- a bubble
to live in;
meals sent through
an airlock;
air filtered till perfectly
impure.
My own private misery
found only in the sentencing
of loneliness
delt out 
generously.
stability and isolation
a warm blanket and aloose thread
a rock and its erosion
To know what is 
ahead is the only
consolation.
Yet the greatest peice of
comfort. is the persistance
of longing
the knowledge that tomorrow
i will long
for love
and the day that follows
i will long
for love.
each day the same 
underlying
theme of desperation.
An old friend 
to hold at my side for consolation
that cant always be
relied apon.
self created,
an imaginary companion
i made him
wrought him with steel
and asbestos
into a glorious work
of pain and solitude
rising with disgust and awe
in the hills and valleys
of my cliched self, who
embraces the barbed wire
so familiar
so cold
so perfect.
a part of me
my creation
my child
my only 
friend in need.