Because that is what they are
The linked excuses
Between writing desk and act.
-
And art
Some are sighing over expression
In a side room, basements
The places designed for storage
Are becoming porous.
I promised
I would reach twenty one
Before I shot my mind on a canvas
I would flick the gun
With a mock hilarity
On a kind of company
Yet these days
They seem to be preparing the gallery
I will never stand in
But they preserve the hand in.
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