What's stagnant stays, overstays its welcome

What's stagnant stays, overstays its welcome,
Silt riches greening the victor's cup;
I hope to amputate what will not strengthen,
To vomit back what wasn't nutrient sup.

So much for my formal meditation:
“Divide and conquer,” the same wastrel scrawl
That emanated from the instructor's pen
To rebuff my vast juvenillian bawl:

Poems piled on poems, a swamp turned tar,
Excretions and skittering ditties
Of loves too plural for a concentrated tear.

Somewhere among the calcified fossils lies
A skull that wept at what was a star
And stayed too long looking for your heart: the prize.