These are the ways in which you kill a book.
You pick it up, and tear out every page,
slowly, deliberately, in a rage
or in a toilet, hung upon a hook.
You trample it in mud. You hear it squelch.
Leave it to dry where it develops mould.
Burn it on bonfires – policing makes you cold.
Sling it in crushers – listen to the belch
as the machine digests all that was wise
and true, the crunching of its leather spine.
And when you do this, know that it's a sign.
Next they will ask you to pluck out your eyes
harden your heart, tear justice from your mind,
their perfect servant, idiot and blind.