There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”That solitary
Will never hear reply.
No comrade in
Can hear the frantic cry.
No heart can share the
That haunts his monstrous dark.
The light that filters through the
No other eye can mark.
When flesh is linked with eager flesh,
And words run warm and full,
I think that he is loneliest then,
The captive in the skull.
Caught in a mesh of living veins,
In cell of padded bone,
He loneliest is when he
That he is not alone.
We’d free the incarcerate race of
That such a doom
Could only you unlock my skull,
Or I creep into yours.
