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Untitled (Phone Calls)
I lurk in the shadows
As a bomb at the station goes off

I digest my surroundings
And record her every move

I attack my city
When the poets or pope
Come to town

I create love
And conduct the orchestra

Lust will chant symphonies of blood
As my loneliness lasts to the bathhouse

Clear skies protect their loved ones
As blind men communicate about leather

Bible signatures
And an artist's handicap

Sitting, shivering in the cold
She doesnt hold me tonight
And last nights rain is still dripping
Down my arched back

I hear the Beatles pledge to the boy in the Rye
And the Art Killers
in cathedrals
and central park

They come and go
When doves cry
Go home

Melodies in red, white, and blue
Paste my wall

But all I can do
Is put my cock ring on
And fuck Ms Liberty
Until I cum inside her wet torch

The others sending thanks
And lyrics of the past
I give all
And take little

Robbing the banks
To produce the consumer
I work every day
To beg on my knees
For forgiveness

She has blue eyes today
Baby Blue
Yesterday a shade of brown
But whenever I see her
A mirror is broken

I stay in the night
To feel sausage sliding
And baby back ribs

 1998 David Greg Harth