The products of excruciating purges
we are squeezed out thin hard and dry.
If we exude a stench it is petrified sainthood.
Our feet are large crude fused together
solid like anvils. Ugly as truth is ugly
we are meant to stand upright a long time
and shudder without motion
under the scintillating pins of light
that dart between our bodies
of pimpled mud and your eyes.
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