The Attachment Symbiosis
The Attachment Symbiosis
A condensed loot of an eyesore
Brittle the nyle in thy soul
The howling sonnet whistling in my lungs
Hollow the paradox of thy whole.
The candle's gutter in the lump of soup
Soaked in the sun wash of seeds
A mile-less track of sighs and sobs
And a heart infested with caterpillars.