Center of The Dancing Sycophants

I am tired of the endless winter in my hair
and my flesh so easy to tear and organs
to crush.

I have welcomed through black windows
vacancy and irony
-I have fed upon them then licked the plate clean
and asked for more
with an adoring look in my eyes.

The sycophants around me
link arms and dance circling around my prostration
legs kicking upward in unison
cheeks rosy eyes glistening.

But where is the hero
beneath such a floppy exterior
that it constantly requires sedation?

Go away go away
I am lonely,
please come back.