epidural.
I feel nothing.
skintiments
are like
a jigsaw puzzle;
I cannot interlock myself
<———————-back
—->to that copious landscape
where mad cows &
blind crows came to
graze and perch upon;
& once upon
I was that
unvarying pain
reflecting
off your tongue
where you spat
tears of saliva
’cause you refused
to irrigate my bushes;
you are numb inside,
so you say, then you say,
I’m a tokophobic
’cause e-v-e-r-y-thing
you deposit in me
there seems to always be
that jewel encrusted scalpel
assembling upon my virgin flesh
resembling
slut digging maggots;
burdens
terminated,
excavated,
disposed
in a doggy
bag;
then you say
you’re empty
inside,
then you
have a cigarette,
change the channel
on the HD
as if your fucking misery
is all my fucking fault.
but
& still
I feel nothing.
just like those
“in-labor” mothers
giving birth
to fucks
like you.