we move by instinct, darling   let our hands be hatchets, let us   wander blindly, swinging madly   in a forest made of flesh.   we move by instinct, darling   let our eyes like lepers drive   the doubters from our homes and   into the bottom of the sea.   and we speak in signals, darling   let our smoke stitch pictures, let us   twist in patterns, dull the horror   of a city still on fire. for   we are like medics handling   suicide by cyanide with bleeding   fingers. let us suffer   completely inadequate.   and we move like lovers, lover   let me run my fingers down your side   and kiss you right below the eye.   we sleep with shadows but   we never give them bread.   horror, dress yourself in shame   or i will tear a hole in you, you harlot.   burn your eyes, (i will hold your   white-washed bones unto the sky and   scream "oh god, if you are there,   i hold this body to your judgment--   give it your wrath or your mercy.   but please pick wrath.")