See, eggs have been laid,
in this nest which I bear,
for which the future is
unknown.

See, they trouble my soul,
day and night, bed and out,
with their voiceless tweet,
their fleshless touch.

Listen, for a fool am I,
and I hang myself at chance,
and I weep for the unborn,
and I spread open my scars.

And I bleed,
I bleed for tomorrow,
so much, too much,
and I do not feel,
and you are gone.



March 24th, 2003, 5:45 am