I never met an artist I didn’t like
I just tasted their breathe
from an arms length away
and
when they told me drunkenly
to go to hell
at least I knew they meant it
so while she tore off her clothes
like a caged animal
in the center of a Williamsburg high-rise
a slave to her own bizarre fashion
I could see it there, her passion
exhibited like a gallery of fine art
and her hair
painted in oils hyper-realistic
she would drive herself wild
though couldn’t quite blend her canvas
into the madness she became
hysterical so
closing the cage I left
knowing
there wasn’t more I could do
than allow her the respect and dignity
to clean up her own mess.