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back to poetry

    i want you to look into my eyes and say
    inside your eyes, I can see the corpse of an artist 
    and sorry, but the smell is too bad

    the only crime that should be free
    should be the murder of the artist
    like a ritual to start a new cult
    the sacrifice of the artist's body
    a banquet
    full of people around the table
    hungry to eat the slices of the artist with gravy sauce
    would not be artistic enough to
    justify the murder
    i don't want compliments
    unless your mouth is chewing my flesh
    unless my blood runs on your lips 
    unless you apologize, sorry, i need to go to the bathroom
    i'm having trouble in my belly
    and while you puke my flesh in the flush
    my flesh, the acid juice of your stomach, floating down the flush waterfall
    now tell me
    what do you think of my artwork?