At the end of the day,
I wish they would see
beyond the colors
I have wiped across the bare canvas
They would listen to my whispers
beyond the endless talks
along the white but dirty hallways
They would taste my wounds
beyond the bitter red wine
served with garlic toasts covered with dead meat
The gallery is a lifeless space after 10:00pm
bare, empty, filthy
Do you understand me now?
Or were you just flattered to see the colors
on the stretched piece of cloth?
You are worse than a blind, deaf man.
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