Neither sadist nor masochist, I still Must turn to violence: break, be broken. False image of myself I beg you: kill. Help me destroy the one of you I've spoken Within my wilful heart. It is no more you Than I am all that I would wish to be. I cannot really love you till I hew All these projections of an unreal me, An imaged you, to shards. Then death Will have a chance to free me for creation. God! All this dying has me out of breath. How do I understand reincarnation? But if I burst all bonds of self-protection Then may I find us both in resurrection.