Very well. One more time, and then you're on your own. You always were.

You sell your soul for clarity. You hope
To find me in a box, a bag, a book...
You sell yourself too cheaply. You should look
Beyond, behind, beneath, below. Your scope
Must pain you with its limits. While you grope
For meaning, meaning sinks a cruel hook
Into your skin. You knew this when you shook
My hand and worked a noose into the rope.

I have no sympathy for you. Why should
I care what you have lost, what you regret?
Why did you follow me? Why come so far
For what I would not give you if I could?
Go now... lest you forgive and I forget.
I know that you'll be back. You always are.

Now do you see? Do you even know if I'm talking to you? The answer to the whole of the question is in the answer to any one part.