T ~ Caligula wants to die

Caligula, a sheaf of sticks in a ballgown
touseling the remains of his hair
with a single crooked finger
and applying lip paint across him
calls to Cherea, and says,
"I will lose this fluvious, gurgling voice of mine
to fits of coughing and smothering blubber,
it will thicken and dry,
and in its course it will have eroded for me
a new voice
from stones and bark and other old, hard things
and this new voice of mine will deride and pummel
the older one until he sweeps the earth
of its memory.

"Since just as it's a cruel joke
of some weak gods
that the old, who think themselves firm,
are uprooted and thrown out
by the young, thrusting and thirsting
for acceptance,
So too, so too
is it a joke that the young man is usurped
by the old in the safehouse
of his own body!
and must barricade against himself
The two constantly overpower one another

"Now, Cherea,
I do not wish to be pitted against myself
and thus, I must die.
Your blade must follow
the streak I make now with my lip paint."