Poetic Drink From the Womb

Not On My Side

Double heartbeats.

Hers, with mine in here.

She doesn't know does she?

The tragedy that awaits -

The desires that will forever

Be sheered from both our lives.

Supposed to be nicer than this.

Doesn’t she know?

Her heart beating.

Her juices flowing.

Creating a clhid.

The oen to be, em?

Shouldn’t I tell her?

Oh, but – I can’t.

I don’t have a voice.

Not even a ready tongue.

I’m barely three months old.

What is three months anyway and....

What is that sweet taste again?

Is that really food?

‘Cause all week long,

It wasn’t the same.

And all that noise out there.

What kind of room are you in?

Whoof, I’m dizzy.

Falling asleep.

Deep, deep sleep.

Too dee…,

...,

…

Wahhh!

It’s like fire.

And I’m all trembly.

I can’t find my mouth.

Where’s my thumb?

Wahhh!

What has happened again!?

Please not again mama

‘Cause I ‘m starving.

I’m starving so bad.

Feed me mommy.

Mommy wake up and feed me!

So that’s it? I want out!

This feeling is too much.

There used to be a beautiful light,

Now there is barely a beam.

And my teeny heart keeps throbbing, asking,

“Someone, please, PLEASE, speak for me!”

by::

 “WE DO”

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