This Train Is Solid Black

You can use art to survive.
You can use your art to die.
Depends on whether you want
To believe someone's out there,
Outside of you, to talk to,
Which will kill you, or whether
You talk only to yourself

In your private art houses,
Enameled, mirrored, well made,
Keeping all your messy drafts
Of life outside the palace
Where you survive, famously.
I can't decide. Let's escape
On a stolen ride tonight.