My dearest,
please do the kindest thing,
and let me despise you, now.
Dearest- please release me from
this metaphysical infestation,
euthanase this fantastically blighted
product of gestation.
Please leave the deformed pup
of my obsession
writhing out on the woodpile,
in the hard, the ground-glass frost.
Please kick the runt of the litter-
my naked need for you-
away from the swollen, the purple-veined
teats of the indolent bitch.
Please put my mewling, my premature,
my pewling wanting of you
in an old hessian sack,
tie the end with jute,
and chuck it overhand into the middle of
a muddied dam.
Please dash the besmirched barnyard egg
of this soft-bellied obsession
against a tree.
Please find the addled nest of my fantasies,
and tip the goggle-eyed fledglings out.
Oh, my darling,
please pull the plug, pull the wall-plug...
press the pillow, press the smothering
goose-down pillow...
Please! quick! drop the brick!
Oh, my darling, please kill the mouthing hope,
kill the ache, the hungry ache;
please abort the foetus of longing,
terminate the fatal you-and-me-belonging that
grows daily, by the hour, by the minute,
in my distended belly
like a terrible cyst of desire,
a tumour of futility,
a slit-eyed infant of impossibility.
Oh, my dearest, do it now.
Do it now.
Oh, do it now.