Tangled

Tangled up in pipes and wires
The morning ritual enacting fires
In the profundity delirious pain
Comes to a soul that’s born again
The pee line a kind of dangling free
Held in check a want to see
The ultimate tug on Scrotums sac
And from that there is no way back

Trussed up like a Summer chicken
Fragile that taste of Ill it will
Frighten the fragility of left to suffer
Really still
Purposeful and suffering
Risk levels all high
Hanging in an organic tangle
Underneath a fresh March sky