To command this graffiti
would call for arrogance
beyond the corrective powers of a pen.
Yet it begs to be unleashed,
for everyone to know George Goodger is turned on
by phallic fruit, that kermit the frog
is hot. The thoughts that line
the hearts of students
shout from bathroom cubicles,
cogito ergo sum- who the fuck
graffitis in latin anyway? I hate
this place, I love it. Tell the person you want
that you love them- you might not
get another chance. Fuck that’s gay.
I love you, HELP. Each lecture
neat notes on clean paper
censor the scrawled other-side.
The drunken discussion of necrophilia
weighing up fungus vs. no fungus,
angel lust and whether
a flower is beautiful if no-one
can see it. The symmetry
of a face is mathematical like the
texture of a painting or a sunset.
If George Goodger is not alone
then does cogito ergo sum
stamped on the side of a toilet
mean more that it would encased
in the pages of a book?