When one speaks of loneliness, what does one speak about?

Empty space.

When there is too much empty space around you, it can be bad.
Before you’re two months old, for instance
even having arms can be overwhelming, over stimulating.

Better to swaddle them close. Any space is too much space.

But what about those times when the space opens up
not around but within you?

Between your organs and your ribs.

Who knew your chest cavity could be
so cavernous?

A person can get lost in there.

When I am nervous about the intangible,
the spaces within me grow and grow
and I feel invisible fingers inside of me,
exploring my belly. Clutching my uterus.
Reaching up between my liver and my lungs.

Is this God?

I do not like it.

I think perhaps the whole long road to self-actualization
the one I am ostensibly travelling
(except that I wander off so frequently)
is nothing but a scheme
to keep some sort of control over

how much space I have
inside of me.