cast from shallow vision, incapable of beautiful forms.
He’s having them killed. Women lay bare, exposed, a plaster
of curves, of expiration. Sinews of exotic Africa force themselves
upon Assyrian conquests, not of their own accord. Animal panic
in these eyes. She has to cover her face from all of this
Apathy. Disdain.
Tendrils of treasure wind through ribbons silks, velvet adornments;
Doused with wine, revealing their secrets in these last moments:
anger partners with honor; gluttonous excess as dagger meets tendon.
Red-eyed slaves offer themselves in service to a doomed decadence.
No salvation, no reward. It seems Caligula has grown a beard.
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