S Series

What skyless abode have we rode
to set sail with holes, and leave as whole

Holding your gaze as though a compass amidst,
the maze filled ways of intestinal dipshits

Too bright you bleed, the perfect splattering of
seeds tinted on our windows, wherever the
wind blows-- your breath goes

Waking us with smiles, does handsome senile
not brighten for miles and miles

And If it seems you are not there, you always are
watching from far

A friendly wave, and pat of night's clean shave
your rays peering out like a face;

You make every place feel like home.