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Couture Cuirass

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  • Couture Cuirass

    His cardigan smells of Scotch and Zara:
    Eyes by Gucci,
    His essence?
    Dolce and Gabbana.

    Boots bred in ochre,
    Olive and red;
    Pedigree haute authenticated
    Upon ornate armor patented
    And embellished with ardor.

    An actor stripped of façades glamor
    Broken and bedraggled
    In the locked closet;
    Casket lined with velvet,
    The awful, bony digits deep caress
    At the behest of the Reaper’s gold honor.

    Various vortexes
    Swallow consciousness
    Dreidels twirling upon onyx,
    In the textiles of fashion in a silicone era
    Cracking the craven crest of incest.
    Revert to terra firma?
    It is all being fully addressed.

    Do not worry, old friend,
    The wardrobe’s folded human linen,
    Like fabric back up into the coffin.

    He stands naked in the parlor,
    Flayed of his usual armor:
    Obtuse and abject,
    No mojo left to garner,
    Neither brilliant nor omnipotent.
    False ego, now wounded, falls farther.

    Flesh and its vulnerabilities
    Are detrimental
    Assets the bourgeois see failure.

    Vainglorious and odious,
    Obliterating detritus,
    His eminence:
    Dazzling, shattered.
    Last edited by WoundedBird; 08-26-2018, 06:57 PM.
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