Mortality as an art form-
exploring the art of death
as a memento moray
and as a curiosity.
Thoughts of jumping,
cutting,
swallowing
and letting light into one's own mind.
Bashing in the cats scull,
shooting a squirrel off of a fence or
flying through the guardrail
tires still spinning in the still air.
The dead are a touchy lot
their remnants always causing intrigue
but the living always take the blame for bad taste
Considering the beauty of the rosy still waters
surrounding Marat in his tub,
or the pickled shark of Mr. Hirst.
Morbid curiosity.
An artists folly.
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