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I'm better off with a graphite stick
Behind my closed door
Beneath my wooden plank
Much better than before

Jesus Christ ruled and ruined my life
My gold is gone with spoiled sweat
And spent tears in my struggling strife

Roadside bombs
Light up the avenues at night
I told sister, I'm not going to moms

Holy monks on fire
Shafrazi, Solanas
Everyone I admire

Rachel's object carefully kept
Burden you with a repeat
Three months in I quietly slept

I'm gay, I'm straight, I'm bi
Does it really matter to you
If I do or die?

Pull up alongside me
September spread in Vogue
Connective ladder is the key

Elevated to the likes of the common few
Hedge funders and President Emerita
Models and curators I can now screw

Lincoln crosses the street
Suicide inevitable
In Wyeth's field of wheat

Dried without starch
Multiple mediums and now large
Recognition of nothing somethings
Let's begin the charge!

 2009 David Greg Harth