Hell

Today I went downtown to explore and visit The Poetry Foundation.  Little did I know, it didn't open until 1 PM today.  The sign on the door said so, but I pulled on the door handle and found out that the door was locked in the good old-fashioned embarrassment that results from pulling on a door that won't open.  Luckily, it was only a couple people who witnessed this through the floor to ceiling windows.

Note to self: stop putting pens in your mouth, it grosses some people out.

And then I met up with one of my friends for lunch, and I got to see the lobby of the office where he works.  This lobby had a gigantic statue that I swear was of a womb with a fetus inside.  This is a testament to how twisted my brain is.  Or how caffeine affects my thought processes.

April 22, 2013

This is what
the real world looks like:
neckties,
conservative shoes,
and pantyhose,
though not worn
by the same people.
ID-checking guards
stand like the three heads
of Cerberus
before the gates of Hell.
Making the El
the River Styx
and the tie-wearers
all the Hell subjects
chained to fire
and brimstone
by so many insubstantial links.
Like a paycheck.
So that makes me Dante,
wary tourist
on this foreign plane,
clutching my Polaroid
in hopes of capturing
some one-time
scene of torture
while the demons leer
at my Converse
standing flat amongst the pumps.

"I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way."

- Robert Frost