an unfinished poem

Here is another unfinished piece I had forgotten about tonight, a poem. This one, I don't intend to finish because I found it distasteful to think about. You'll see with the subject matter. Why post it? Honestly, I'm having trouble finding words tonight. Part of the reason words aren't coming is due to the subject of the poem. It seems like poetic justice (get it?) to share it, since I'm having trouble writing anything new. 

It's written in verse. It's not at all well written, but I was working through some anger, apparently. If you'd like to finish it, feel free.

Song of the Phallus Palace

Erect and proud, it bears my name;

It stands so grand and tall --

A fitting tribute to my fame

(Enormous fame --NOT small).

It’s huge! It’s filled with majesty,

As I myself am filled --

Of course, this thing is mine,

For I’m a man of industry,

And all the girls are thrilled --thrilled! --

To come. They stand in line.

It doesn’t merely scrape the sky --

I’d say it penetrates it.

Six hundred sixty-four feet high --

Only jealous people hates it.

Those people wish that they were me

(Including those who built it

And who I may not have paid

And who then sank into poverty.

If you think that causes any guilt, it

Won’t, ‘cause guilt won’t get me laid).

...