My Art... HAH! A joke--
But not one worth telling.
Bad in the burly existentialist sense
Unlike the golden Grandpa goads.

No. A joke that waves
Comedy--Tragedy--Obscurity.
In the gutters it would not be so.
In the gutters I may be alone.

In the gutters the fat of the lamb will hear my heart
And then, in the gutters, it--I--we-- shall find our home
For, you see, us three, we be
Friendly ******* of Filth and Froth,

The Filthy Fat from which loathing Bubbles.
Yes. Only in the gutters to mine own--all selves-- be true.
For you, yes you, and the fair few, you vessels, you
Of objection and projection. Yes, for you.