IntentINTERRUPTions

To assemble
       a means of dissembling so that the couch resembles the swan
       and the ouch the elevator closing in on your fingers.
I did not like the image the world came in so I roughed it up.
       My intervention felt necessary if I were to save myself from sweetness.
       To stage the event as if it were given rather than invented.
To mask the terrifying calm with a gesture so broad it felt like the sea.
       I did not care to be told I had the morality of a leech. I gouged out
       my eyes and bled them dry. There was nothing to it.
To construct a defacement. To make room for only those elements that
       would keep your statement loaded, and steady.
       It was easy for me to refuse. That was how I turned the winds
in my favour. How thoughtless of me to have capsized.
To eternally be summer. How awful not to have known any other weather
       or faced any storm not of your own making.
I slit open the inadvertent envelope. When the bill fell out
       I pinned it to the wall of someone else’s shame.
       To know pastiche is a pastille to be sucked until it melts.
To be able to pack up your troubles in your old kitsch bag and smile smile smile.
       I resisted and it made no difference. Two girls were forced
       to swallow toilet-cleaner. Their oesophagus burnt.
To take one shiny happy scene and replace it with another.
To exist in modus operandi. To never go hungry in protest.
       I wanted to have a hand in the way things were going.
I wanted to make up for everybody’s pain. This was not the way.
                                                                                      To make amends.