Ex Oblivique.
Oh, there is no joy in it anymore,
the thought of getting drunk and painting
until I'd painted my way into a corner
of something superior by Velazquez.
Painted my way out, out, out
of a piece by Whitman or Frost.
Painted my own exit from here
and that there is no joy in this
in the thought of escape...
couldn't make me happier.
I love being here.