Viviticians shall we call them. With twilled hair. Unbearable bottles boiling in alcoves. Teasing the living. To pounce their chalky beings. That which needs to be done in. Pumping odd fluids. Dead calm before the Lifestorm. Inconsequential Cosmetology. Exclamation at the expectation of unveiling. The viewing as your sheeted body swivels into the mirror. Old dry gorget on a hot winter day. With teeming affairs set on ice, astringent. Sitting warm lizard-like in the sun, in green wraps. Clay green blue avocado paste face. Returning to pismire, kneeling before blood-red toes. Ritualistic renewal: meaningfulness extra. Longer than any TV show. Seated behind the bereaved. Beringed, counting how many rings, how many fingers. Motto: judge not our behavior by our coverlets. Less moisture, more heat, unto flames. You body is now natural. Below the gilt-framed still-life with limp pheasant. Rest up, relax, wax before you go. Perhaps you'll feel better.
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