Appall

Life is not held.
Nor in a sieve nor vice nor womb,
My tomb is full now as has been empty for eternity,
Her legs constrain enflame engulf and pain,
Philosophy is murdered the second I scent you,
Your wandering brought down freezing snow,
Untouched putrid and best forgot,
But alway in a tight slipknot,
Your thoughts won't fit inside her p***y, try though you may