I take my photography

and picture you in pornography

 

I will commit the robbery

and go down on your shrubbery

 

You are like a warm wasted drug

moving through my arteries like a slug

 

I search for love

but all I am is a dead dove

 

I am helpless

as your love affair with yourself

reeks of sawed off monkey heads

 

I brace myself as you jerk at my dick

I always wish I could perform that trick

 

For you I commit a rhyme

and give away my last cocaine dime

 

You rape me of my belief

and never give me any relief

 

You leave your scent in my blood stained eyes

and you never loosen my ties

 

I thrive for the different direction

and never get an erection

 

I am an addict

I survive on the thoughts people shed

Leave behind

 

The beauty of day

Leaves me alone

and makes me kill the pigeons you find

on city floors

 

Making babies

and microwaves

 

Telephone chasing

and my fingers tracing

 

Leftover turkey

my eyes are murky

hiding the death

 

That I have killed

the lovers

the travelers

the listeners

the seekers

the lookers

the patients

the devils

the gods

the pigeons

the colors

the rhymes

the birth

 

 

 

 

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.03.15.23:15:59@07430