Naked Zombie & The Telephone

A deep topic

I want to jump through my skin

from the pages of print and have intercourse with you

my mind is off on an even keel

the unfolding of hands

at the diner at noon the slippery spoon

you want to impeach Trump but then who is left

a life of no regrets

Margaret Thatcher and the spinning wheel

beggars with no big deal

the thousand loosened horse men in the street

　

only the phantom should preach

to neck behind the microphone

the naked zombie & the telephone

alone with hands searching for its penis

art has changed the notion of thought

a zombie soul can't ever be bought

with hands to hold upon the nucleus

　

The phamtom is living under my bed

it comes to me in a dream at night to fright

picks up my soul and carries it across the room

draws strength from the conclaves of darkness

with a pitchfork in hand eager to understand

the remedy of suspicion

a soul in derision