Veneration Ululation

Innocent, sweet little boy

Who lives alone in an apartment of three rooms

And smokes on any given day

While he writes about smiling women

With blooming eyes

And shiny black (and blonde) hair.

Sneaky, inexplicable little man

Who pines and waits for Lady’s touch

And imagines desecration on his empty spare bed

While lost in his own chimera

Made of multiple, craving girls

Changing and saving his existence

Broken-down yet hopeful young man

Who reads Pirandello and grieves

His overly aware, over-analytical mind

Renders him to inaction

Except for words

That crafts the girl(s) of his dreams

Invalidating, unrecognizing man

With his museum of women

Feel us squirm, hear us roar

Your muses for you to control

At your own terms,

At your own will

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