On the Stages of the Ear

Hollowing out my night
I spare a thought suckers (& blowers)
that still get their sex.
The ear does not demon brain
puts its car to the earwig drives
ghost trains throu vers' tunnel.
Pink cauliflowers the portals. A bee
from a scented kes sonic booms
in the windtunnel oes grow.
The long and sens dors echo. A bee
wears a miner's gathering beeswax
from the niches helter from the trains.
Contrast this with smelly grottoes
that the speleologis rone as they are
to flooding, blocka for the winter, and fickleness.
The earwig has co through.
Deep down inside enzied joy
at the emergence Germ.

Hockey Patilla