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Have I dissolved in a fever
or is this some dream that pours
from my mind like bitter grapes
and devours my countenance?
In a world gone dizzy and grey
from an annihilation of pathos,
with false bravado, I stand
naked before many judges.
Unlike the nude on the painter’s
canvas, my nakedness is my vulnerability
and my defense against the accusations
whipped across my broken flesh.
The accusers don’t close their eyes;
with eager desire, they observe every
inch of bleeding bits of meat rip from
my body and soar like the wind’s slave.
If only I could unzip
this coat of torment and pain,
this ignominy before the rain
erodes all memory of who I was.