From he who only farted

[tectak]

O muse I pray you fill my barren chest
so I may puff my torso up with wind
and pour a drooping poppy’s strain depressed
before the bloom with heavy head down pinned.
Let owl songs that guide a rusty knife let songs of owls that guide a rusty knife
towards suicide be new endowed in me to suicide be new endowed in me
so I may use a death to eek a life,
be ripe with a rich green and potpourri, 
and hang like a dead note on bathroom walls
that chokes out feces with a harsh perfume. faeces?
Like an unpapered sadness in the stall,
let me reign higher than the flushing spume.
I know there’s nothing divine in your light,
but do not suffer me  a tail end’s blight.

...but what the hell. Lovin' it.
Best,
tectak