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 [bad word] inadequate.

And we move like lovers, lover

Let [bad word] 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.")