The purring of the color machines
the icing from the cake removed
it's structure bare the fragility open
you striped of robes in the town square
most beautiful before the decline
you are a martyr of oxygen, the stoning will resume.
By bus they stare and mock you openly
and cheer for your dormancy
you know that everyone loves a funeral
but they will get a resurrection
and curse your name and new hungry mouths
and take the pills that keep your sexuality at bay.
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