If my flesh is not Real,
then how does it break
when the Mad Man screams & flays?
How is there blood, if it is not Real blood,
and how does it touch your Real flesh?
Perhaps Real flesh is velvet & stone,
soft & regal when there is a sun to spill
its breath, hard & stolid when the moon
pulls with a stronger scent.
The Mad Man is Real flesh,
solid flesh which does tatter
the soft rags hanging from my plastic bones.
It is Real because he says so,
and because I do not say not so.
It is more than my plastic bones & diluted blood.
It is the Flesh of a King, the only Real way to live.
How do I get It?
How do I get It, before my nonflesh
becomes even less, and wilts away?
Must I steal It from the Mad Man, or
can I perhaps weave my own,
and then perhaps allow us both to live
with Real flesh?
I do not wish to bother.
I simply wish to know
what Real flesh is made from,
and where it is sewn.
I want to live Really and not just so.
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