Secret thoughts like raindrops

on the rings of Saturn,

things forever lost

float into mind

on rivers of golden words

written with budding lips,

scribbled by satirically serious fingers,

or pounded with mechanical keys,

portable, painful, with ribbon tedious to thread.

My darling Olive

with your boxy frame,

sky white skin

and sticky fingers.

how methodical and slow

our fighting dance.

How joyful

the new agonies that await us.

Joyful new crimes, joyfully jogging type bars, joyfully resisting

joyful beneath

Shuddering, trembling,

flowing over with sweat and *******.

Pulling men to flame

ripping off their wings

Ripping men into

meandering, lost thought vehicles,

perpetual machines of confusion and shame.

Ripping men into ribcages,

pulling at the sinew

until we actually have become moths.

Flesh turned inside out

With the smallest words imaginable.

Men slunk to sand

With the smallest words imaginable.

Determination set to dust

with the smallest words imaginable.

Women shredding men into typewriter ribbons,

with the smallest words imaginable.

“I Hate You”

pulling cupboards out of walls,

breaking bathroom faucets,

“I Love You”

pulling the skin off

like socks.