Missing Page from The Book of Love

You can make yourself
comfortable being
all manner of monster
to other men

and in the end,
past the fence
of slashed flesh and
heaped sorrow’s,

passed vats of tears
and blood shed

you can love yourself
and even,
somehow,
have learned
to love those
who managed
your hate
to begin with;

“man is a wolf to men”

and the wolf has
integrity where most
men merely mask it,

make a morose show of it
make it look like a book

you can paint
any colour,
your life
that is-

make it shine
and don’t despair.

The real monsters aren’t out there.

They’re in here,
my boy! Not outside!
They’re in here!

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