The Inaugural

I have a painting in an exhibition that opens in an hour. Shit.
This is number one. I'm feeling, hollow. Empty.
No doubt a product of too many years spent living in the masquerade.
My first exhibition. Not the last.
The begining, but really it's the middle where the adventure happens.
I have nerves.
Fuck.

For Bones' Flesh...

When I dream of you, three nights in a row. Of stolen art, purple carpet, forgeries, spiral stairs and cherry flavored condoms. I wake up feeling intoxicated by you, and ever so slightly disturbed.

Ohhhhhhhh La Luna! Hooohhhhhh Shine on Me...

I'm finding myself somewhat attracted to an 'older' man.
But hush...
Don't tell.