Song of surgeons, verses twenty three through thirty eight
Parting the turgid flesh, urging apart the tissues, has crazed me
Metal screech autistic android choir all day, everyday
Wheezing saws, applause as wasting diseases destroyed Greenan Maze
All manner of invisible invaders
Empty seat at table, with wineglass and packed plate
Trying to subtract the indivisible from physical presence
Making myself unavailable, waddling toward death doe-eyed
Fender-seeking pheasant death, no less for one so unpleasant
Head surgeon searching my body
For burstable pustules of leftover applause
Manky paws put to virgins, curling back to confirm their virtue
A hundred miles of in laws
No better version than this
And that really hurts.
Alchemisland 
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