Your telephone 
You talk to me through
Wiretapped by 
The president's dog
Chef Boyardi
Peter Fonda
A fairy called Gabriel
Hester Pyrnne
King David
Sham Moo
Rodney Dangerfield 
The entirety of NASCAR
Jane Goodall
Tree-beard the Ent 
Thing 1 and Thing 2
Every Protozoa on the planet 
The telephone you talk to me through 
Is not a telephone, it is a network 
So where can I turn now
And feel safe or feel natural 
Feel free or at ease
Strawberry fields eternal 
Your filthy soggy boots
Caked in mud sloshing each
Step I always know when you're there
I hear you step every step
My racing heart spews nausea 
Your scent a reviling corpse 
Your telephone rings 
The Tao flows down the freeway 
Toe and fingernails yanked out 
Your dreams and mine losing teeth
Your telephone rings 
You never loved me
If you're capable of this
You've never loved anyone 
I hear you walking down the hall
Breathing chortling phlegmy lungfuls
And stepping hard in your galoshes 
Spewing water, soaking the floorboards
Compressing the fabric wringing out
The nasty gutter fluid 
Tracking footprints you walk to
Your telephone 
I pray alone to the wall
To the God you all promised was there
I pray you leave today and never come back
The Tao flows down the freeway 
Or else blot my eyes out with ink
Spilling quills flow black inside 
Untouched by the sun 
I sputter words calling the creature Christ
I pray for silence, do not call my name 
With your sickly sweet breath
You say anything you want them to hear 
Into your telephone 
God doesn't gossip from what I've discerned
The Tao flows down the freeway 
I writhe alone, letting myself cry
Unaware that I'm not free from your 
Prying ears the electrocution by telephone
A neighbor always there 
And your engine, hot an rumbling 
After the sharp ignition 
And finally the gravel churns beneath
Your weight
Shooting black toxic gas and more dirty water 
Thick like my black blood never touched by the sun
Coughing wheezing nasty like you into your telephone 
That's not a telephone you talk through,
It's a network 
How could you not know? 
There are cables everywhere. 
Called telephone cables 
And they go to everybody's house
But I don't get a telephone 
There is a wall called God
That I must silently pray with
Sounds like strawberry fields eternity
To me the sound of your telephone
Rings wrenching vomiting bile
After the stomach is empty