Sexual Archaeology

Fränz Müller

My body is a temple

that, sadly

is crumbling and haunted

thoroughly looted

by all who came before you.

No one has worshipped at my altar

in a hundred generations;

my pillar, unannointed with fresh oil,

stands alone, an ancient relic

on a distant stretch of ground,

where the map of my holy ground

has long turned to dust.

  • Author: Fränz Müller (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 5th, 2026 07:02
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 4


To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.