The Hollow Man

The Hollow Man loves veneer;
he loves the sculpted bodies
surgeons carved from head to toe —
everywhere;
he contorts his pate to have
some hair,
beautiful suits he does wear;
monogrammed shirts cover flabby skin
and body hair,
Dorothy’s hapless friend
with crows to scare,
had more going for him
than the Hollow Man, who
quips, “Who cares?”
At women’s bodies he does stare
and then probes and grabs and tears.
Happy when the Hollow Man’s
little friend stands at attention,
he offers, “Look at me, dear,
and show me some affection.”
The only thing that is up
is the jig, for it now has
become perfectly clear —
the Hollow Man is
only veneer;
there is nothing
to fear; under the
veneer
there is no one
there.

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