In the breach left by stripling aggregate
A maw, grinning ghastly, yawns
Upturned the lick that, dodged, retreats
With an audible smack fed
Dribbled delusions of safe harbour
Gone*
Any port in tomorrow’s storm
Of spermicide droplets
For there is form in the fog
Appreciable destiny in the collide
A whispering lament
Of apathy, sweet apathy
And children unborn
*You are a triangle, torn through the mouth of a square, something fantastic beyond mortal comprehension. You have no equal, for you do not exist anywhere but my heart. There you remain forever, undeveloped, immaculate.