A Man-Like Product | Definitive Version

I wear indecent clothes
stolen nightly from the sex shop
well aware aloof Miss Dolly's eyes are on me
dressed only in socks and wife's slippers
as a dressmaker I measure myself
enlacing plastic thighs
nothing left for me here
after unstitching common-sense threads
I am all immersed in deep redness
mournful blackness and funereal whiteness