Gallery
You thought I was going to watch and leave as if I was walking in a gallery
You thought I was going to end like a painting, a story, and then another one would follow
You thought I was going to keep being silent and behave like in a museum where stiffness is gold
You thought I was going to turn to dust or get covered in memories, something that happened long time ago like all the pieces in the history section
But history has the gift of repeating itself
And I have the gift of obsessing like hell
So, think again when you visit museums, art is not always the most comfortable and easy going, not a cute to watch and then move on series
So, what do your dreams say when you’re lonely, isn’t it the dark covering your story?
Art is messy and so are humans, so play means dirt and laughs alike, and bruises and things to tell
But sure, they come with some emotional drain
A walk in the gallery can never be twice the same
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Words on a blackboard 
There are always, those parts of, our selves, that we don’t feel safe enough, to expose, to the, rest of, the outside world, because we can’t yet, deal with those parts, so we, hide them, suppress them, and, eventually, they will sll, come flooding out, and they get, out of, control…
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Guessing that the poem is being addressed to a tourist similar to the ones Norton (Cusack?) and Bonham Carter (Rider?) played in FIGHT CLUB.
Is obsession a gift, really?
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thats good words!
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