Quiet Husband Richie Culver
Richie Culver presents his second solo exhibition at Ruttkowski;68 in New York.
Woke up in the evening
Pray for me
Six bottles of piss stand like trophies next to this sofa that I call a bed
Leave your keys on the table and don’t come home
That was all she wrote
I can’t read and I’ve never been on a plane
So ignorance is bliss in a mind like this
A methadone-like haze drifts in from there
I’ll reply later
I’d rather be broke than skint
I’d rather be rich than dead
In this sunken cavity in which I dwell
No prescription needed
No advice wanted
The lights were too bright
Just like they warned me
Time after time they warned me
Underground flower what’s your name
The light at the end is a flame
The piss in the bottles overflow
Time goes slow
It’s gonna be a good Christmas this year
Our year
Credit card fraud on the hottest day of the year
There’s been a white van parked outside my Mothers house all year
Quiet
Quiet
Keeping quietness at bay
I believe in God when things are going my way
My way
Frank Sinatra
My way
Play it at my funeral
But it’s the voice inside my heads way
It’s always been that way
Never been my way
Would you cry if I died
Would you come to my funeral and cry again
again and again
again and again
I wanna eat at those posh restaurants that let you pay at the end
I hope God doesn’t make me pay at the end.