womb
womb, pitch-black not as a threat, but as the universe where my breath is possible only through yours, sensory deprivation chamber I’ll later seek in every room I enter, where my entire shell, a mere vestigial organ is held captive inside your starless night. devouring butterflies you’d buried in your stomach, desecrating their tombstones, pulling out their secrets like teeth, such blood debt could never be repaid to you. your empire stretches out its cashmere tendrils far beyond the exile of my pre-birth months, crawling and clawing at the back of my neck where my weakness is cast in the birth mark I’ll inherit from you. the binding sigil marks me yours, I, an atlas of dreams, lies I’ll never live up to. now, silence is broken into glimmers, stars appearing on the canvas of your insides, just for a moment, then they burn out, gone. only the sun never comes out in here, I will have to seek it myself. now, fir trees offer no shelter for my traveling heartbeats fleeting in their path towards the sinkhole where i would come into the world anew, my living self no longer tied to you; at least, not by the feeding rope but by all your heavy, hurtful hope, and after I come out into your arms will you allow my step? my flight? will you deny my pain? my cries? the altar of your worship demands which sacrifice to remove myself from the shadows of your might? to sever all these hopeful, lying strings wrapping me tight?
nightmare
a clay block, moulded, stitched together by the moist caresses of a Hand a boundless universe, shoved into a suffocating narrow space confined to three dimensions force fitted, tied to a timer and exiled from The Embrace to connect? love? know? a hopeless dreamer, bound to the carcass it inhabits paralysed amidst marble relics - their bloody veins throbbing like headaches - newborn flesh learning the pillars' cold by heart. do not topple the pillar of the Earth but strive towards the Star to find your way back. we are here to help: what you need, we want what you have, we take we strip you of yourself we make you lighter in your ascent to Mothership. a clay statue, dragging its feet across Earth in an attempt to find something true, every dirt path it walks gets stuck to its soles the Body grows snowballing through mud until its orbit sprouts its own gravitational pull swallowing everything around. i stare at the sky all day. when will i take off? the more i try to fly away, the heavier i get. my eyes are glued to the ceiling but my body drags me down valleys and nestles in the deepest hole - at some point a passerby cares enough to shut my eyes and tuck me in, shoveling a blanket of dirt over me. in another life i still do not break eye contact with the sky but this time i get pulled towards the bottom of an ocean. swimming is worth a try, but eventually useless. and so i sink and so the womb welcomes me back in its sensory deprivation chamber - my eyes are shut, the quiet, funnily enough, is peaceful - a slimy thud against my leg opens my eyes in terror and i am confronted with the sight of your swollen, deformed body anchored by a boulder through a chain digging into your bloated ankle and your panicked eyes, wide in terror almost pop out of their sockets and your limbs, frantically spastic, gasping something that's not there - sudden like a blink all movement stops your eye retreats beneath not lid, but glassy sheen and i can see myself, reflected.