Musée des Beaux Artless

Grotesque, elephantine reflections
Greet my parlouresque inspection
Introspection of this kind lends to stirring
Stories, whirled about from foreign verses
Paint drips down behind my throat
In timely sands of sticky notes
Which poke and pile and reach their top
Under stage lights where I limp and hop
Through thoughts of death and open life
Through all the love one may acquire
Amidst the scrapes and scratching posts
Amongst the lost and living hopes
I move to the next gigantic canvas
A circus tent, a lion in heat…

There's no clear purpose.