When you tell your

all to all online and all

online says nothing 

back, and only that which 

backs at all 

backs this you into 

only corners, 

then though I really

shouldn’t dare because 

never have I exactly 

there been, and thus

no right do I have to hold 

this lazy fact in my 



the pain of being cheated,

defiled, dirtied and hung 

out to dry like ragged

cloth of awfully powerless

reminds me so very 

much of some parts of 

family; of some institutions; 

of some ex-lover; of some

lover who wasn’t;

and of those who once 

made out: those who made out 

and made up and 

made clear they were 

sincerely my friends: 

those friends who in the end 

ended all ability I still

sustained to trust

the general good over the 

all-winning bad.

This, then, in all too 


this century 


is the rap[e] I do talk of: 

where the vulnerable

soul is ripped out and apart, and 

away from its core and the

[he]art which once sustained:

[which is to say:


to sustain

progress and 





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