A many headed fistula corrosive in its course,
Redundant and polluted, nature’s only force.
Swallow gruel and cottontails in preparation
For chanting that precedes open incantation.
A cut, a slice, then underneath a layer worn,
Covered up by harshness of September morn.
Replace, repair, then close off to the world,
No matter may impart, nor ever be unfurled.
An open source or never ending process,
In a lighted room, an ugly bleeding abscess.