get out get out.

beloved child, a parasite -

cooing like pigeons.


pest inside.


grow and grow and grab 

and curl fingers around

other people's thumbs -

not mine, not mine,

instinct abandons me

in a wicker basket,

no note.


barren and cobwebbed,

safe from second pulse you stand.

envious, perfect are you, and 

i'm hollow, hollow, hollow

yet all filled up in curving belly.


diseased and haunted,

ghostly aura glow.

you have taken all i was,

now trapped in tiny creature,

and i am lost,

transfered, in infant



and tearing down all around it.

The End

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