An obscure breakfast
My sugar dumpling
Spilled over plates
And leaving me wanting
Time woven in gentle, glancing touches
Grazing the internal organs
Wiring them up to the heat of the outside
The glory and deceit of treatments
The sheer metal surrounds
Glancing and spreading flat onto a table
Paper replacing the maggot spew
Holy as whims
Silent as the short side of a door
I ask for nothing
Except that the conduct
Be worthy of its own means
I hide like a fungal growth
In the sourest corner of your heart