Septic Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a septic tank?
Thou art more smelly and more temperate.
Bowel winds doth shake the darling buds of May,
And Proctologist’s interest are too brief a date.
That TalkyTina doth your interest take?
Sometime the hot eye of heaven doth mistake.
She is too creepy and compost interested,
And daily creates, far too much time invested.
Oh scariness, with interest in seeds for flowering.
And septic tank, stinky with stench devouring.
But her eternal dumpness shall not go,
Although her on the highest landfill I would bestow.
That stinkiest, ugliest patch of muck
For Talkie Tina to end her glorious streak of luck

Oh scary, phobic thing, no eyes can see,
No heart can love, no bowel winds smother thee.