133: My strategy is sweet sleep until we wake.

Who is calling?
Your friend is coming. Must I abandon myself? then my next self? both appear wounded players, both slaves, both to slavery?

Who can say? Twice or say thrice double crossed and, again, — whoever, it’s not enough to torture me alone —
Engrossed, I can hear my friend’s heart groan in jail, thrice threefold — pent up cruelty that’s iterative, baroque:
As if out of time Couperin sprawled with the naked around Antoinette.

But let’s be rigorous now and agree while in prison I am in you. I am yours by force.

And I keep you in my heart on guard of you and of all that is in me.