oops do you remember how heartbreaking artmaking is bc beep beep beep ding ding sound the alarm im there. this morning this is a cry out for me to painting. come back to me. mom! i want to open my fist to you! until then im supposed to soothe my rupture, and kiss myself, filling my squirrel cheeks. i feel like painting left me in the bathtub too and now i’m stuck trying to fit into a full body costume suit from the big halloween store on 14th st. it’s slick and sticky on the inside but rough with dragon skin and gills on the outside, im trying to pull it inch it up my skin, and i can only put it on inside out. scaley side inwards. so itchy, new and old allergies and cuts. still pulling at the latex i want it to cover my face. thank you frank o’hara for writing mayakovsky. at some point i was thought i was taught to roll my eyes at Love Poems. but i am grateful for this and realize no one ever taught me that anyway. give me a chance i don’t want to prune in this tub anymore.