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Confession of Fire
Twenty fires in my core, incendiary ooze death of the poor.
Life that’s saved, Christ implored, tho lava leaks onto my floor.
Amadeo! Cherub of Venetian tombs,
beseech thee humbly, lick this wound.
Tainted earth flows o’r my pores,
distasteful found by foulest spores.
Eternal life, a grace retired,
blood sanguine instead of dire.
Red bat, erupts into my bath,
belching lava, screeching wrath.
Away! Away, commands this prose,
thou alike the phoenix stanza grows.
Ah! If only stigmata would grace my hand,
abate this torture, my saints bedpan.