Untitled #1312

reading poetry to psychiatrists,
getting ready for one last trip,
shoes go on your hands
so the rings go around your ankles,
eating soup loudly:
why can't we just be?

insert myself into situations
created for curation:
hanging in the Guggenheim
by my toes on rails spiraling,
I will not allow myself
to ever be free of you,
	penance, while different,
	is still a punishment:
	well deserved and 
	heartily earned;
the difference is hanging
in art galleries,
rather than the traditional:
gallows.

Reading poetry to psychiatrists
reading poetry to psychiatrists
reading poetry to psycho cats.
Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind