Illegal

(A REVISED POEM, BUT NOT MUCH BETTER)

Is it illegal if I play with my how Or just if I let anybody know now? You can play with yours and I won't mind, I won't turn you in, not if the sun won't shine And not if the deaf go blind! Oh, crap, I know this stuff's so hard to figure, So soft in the herd, so deep in the belly, So stiff in the spine and so far bent over, So much too much for any of us to be refined That even if I drew you a picture You'd want to see less and know more Until it'd all been shattered in the end, Reduced to something looking less Than some figment or some shadow, Some touch of mostly always merely sin That just won't impress us--we're so jaded.