insensitive gooseflesh
underneath gasoline drenched
rags... when there's nothing left
to burn, I am the effigy
and I understand all of us
the more that I don't
draining the weight of the words
I would say to appease you
in such a way that could please you
flames dancing at my feet
I still desperately wish
were metric and free
and words deflated
lie limp draped over covered
furniture, in a dusty attic
filling with smoke
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