Art Museums Part II

“The state of soul is no doubt responsible for my aversion to museums. The only museum for me is the whole of life, in which the painting is always accurate, the only inaccuracy being in the imperfection of the contemplator. I do what I can do to reduce the imperfection, and if I can’t do anything, then I rest content with the way it is, because, like everything, it can’t be any other way.”

-Fernando Pessoa,"The Book of Disquietude"153

Art Museums Part II

Eternity stretches in the years between us
while scandals become fairy tales
and the abstract sells for millions,

The birth of our creation remains
not only as the masterpiece
waiting in the museum.

But is spoken of in each
whisper of night wind:
Witness of our existence

It is written on each page
of philosophy and poetry:
The vernacular of our love.

It is traced along the silhouette
on the wall where our shadows
embraced one another.

It is carved in the ruins
of the temple that was our bodies
while they held each other.

The world will contemplate
always in flawless imperfection
while perfection exists for those

who are the work of art.

Similarities and Small Dicks

Why are each girl he dates after me
all the same
all either cursed with
small tits
a mile wide behind
manish or Elfish
facial features
you know:
the droopy eyes
larger foreheads
eye brows in need
of tweezing
dark eyes, dark hair
begging to be brushed
and straightened.
A physical appearance
opposite in everyway
to my near perfect
reflection.

To counter such
escape of my ego
all of them also
embody the following
mental defects:
A confused sexuality
either before or after
fucking him
turning them either
straight or gay.

All of them also
are God-loving idiots
determined
they are called
to serving the Lord
and selling his
$50 bottle of
magic juice
while saving sinners
in Jesus' name.
(liquefied indulgences).

All of them also
represent
the exact opposite
of my free-thinking
god-less philosophies.

Maybe he needs to
feel superior
to the ones he
fucks.
Rather live in fear
that she just might
leave him
for a more attractive
and intelligent
man.

Or maybe just one
that doesn’t
beat her.
Or throw
wire hangers,
remote controls,
picture frames
and insults
at her.

Maybe he needs
to feel better
at that
pathetic
two and a half inches
between his legs
and the
“mistakes”
of his past.

Maybe he needs
to feel good
about
his "mistake"
of
abusing
and losing
someone
like
me.