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Sad Heart
I hate my day job.
I love a woman.
I can't perceive that I will live the rest of my life doing what I do today.
I contemplate regularly killing myself, more often than you could imagine.
I wish I could see my niece and nephew every day.
I wish I had unlimited funds of money.
I wish I was a little taller.
Despite my great girth of my cock, I wish I was a little bit longer.
Sometimes I wish my nose sloped differently.
I wish my gut was smaller.
I don't understand why there is crap at some galleries and I'm at none.
I wish I was a better poet.

I am darker than anyone can imagine.
Not my sister, not my one
Not a therapist, and not a psychoanalyst.
I'm dangerous. Be aware.

This is not a note of death.
Its truth. Its honesty. And I'm not afraid to admit it.
In the end, its just language, words written, a poem perhaps.

 2007 David Greg Harth