Confused at how the room is shaped to touch
the fervent heat of canvas splashed with hue,
I weep at distant emptiness; so much
is on display for oh-so-fucking-few.
Withdrawn into the warmth of silent stares
which fade into the silence of the walls,
I weep again; I’m just a fool who dares
believe he understands.  What fucking balls!
Duplicitous dichotomies assault
my senses in a wave of higher art.
My visions crack the floor, become the fault
that tears the room around me well apart.
Then as my body falls in ravaged heat,
I feel my spirit, suddenly complete.

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