בהשראתו של שיר של ויגו.

Second opinion

The glow inside another red-crossed pelvis
will drain when they crush that little bulb.
Menstrual minstrels drift in
from the weedless garden.
The immaculate blue flame
from the flake fireplace
burns the corner of my eye.
Can't stop staring at nothing.
A gloved hand opens the door,
And the man enters soothingly,
With n air of respect for the dead.
Encourages us to look on the bright side.
Black pants hide your pain afterwards,
And there's a cookie on a napkin,
And a paper cup of red juice,
To replace your strength.
We drive home without blinking
Because the sun isn't real.