How it feels to be born from an egg

PART ONE

Lullaby to an Angels Egg

How it feels / Egg

it doesn't feel. it sees
there are no rules here. numbers don't belong here
(and neither do you)
your nest is the safest place you will ever find
the spaces between running away and staying
the pieces of your shell are part of you. they stay forever, you cannot leave them. they will stick to your skin even if it hurts, it will hurt
how it is to be so blind and so awake
this is all you are
and all you will ever be
your mind is a separate piece of you. are you awake or asleep? every piece of your fragile body is held together by what will one day become the very shells that pierce you as you tread to your own demise. your fingers bloodied, hands numb with exhaustion and the weight of things you don't fully remember. how does it feel to know that whatever you birth will be as ruined as you?

She

stabs of panic shuddered through her

and some animal part of her took over

as if biting into a carrot,

she sunk her teeth into his shoulder

because she was going to eat him raw

Birth

How can something so beautiful

so small,

porcelain

delicate

come from such an awful sound

it was like

raw glass, raw blood

raining fear, so much and

all the things in the little spaces

between her skin had exploded in

dizzying starbursts that pierce your eyes

you didn't cry when you were born.

she did it for you

and i don't think she ever really stopped

(and neither do you)

Ever since then,

there was no real beginning

but there was always something sheltering you

it was too young to hurt

you were too young to hurt

Lullaby to an Angel's Egg

She screamed songs into the night,

cradling you before you were born

her words like rain

flowers blossoming in your head

barely a thought,

planted into awful ground and it wasn't her fault it never was

her fault

so she sang

about being everywhere and nowhere at once,

the spaces between walls and solid roofs,

how things change when you look away

the taste of bitter coffee and how it is like acid

how it was like acid

and how the last part of a destroyed house

is the door frame,

and maybe that is what made you like this

what made you

How does it feel

- hearing your bones move and creak slightly, with the slightest movement of your head, your eyes are a separate entity. you do not control what they see

- you are your own viewer, your limbs are separate entities. arm. hand. finger. these are separate beings, plastic or porcelain, whichever is more convenient for those surrounding you to pronounce

- the feeling of really hiding from someone

- your body remembers things your eyes do not

- pressed against white tile, cool against your trembling hands, your eyes jolt shudder stab with panic and you can see the shadow outside the door, you feel so so sick, nausea, hearing your heartbeat, shaking, shaking

- can he see you?

- the feeling of bracing

- your eyes are connected to things that remember what you don't. they have seen things that you are unaware of

- bracing from something you trusted, your face tightening eyes tightening everything sealing up like cement, like closing doors, like protective shells, walls, closed so tight they hurt but it was worth it it was worth it

- wasn't it?

there are some things that cannot be described well enough

there are no words. you have to

really feel them to know

Say / Reptile Crucifix

"She doesn't play very well with the other children."

"She doesn't speak much. She doesn't show much interest in the toys, either, "

"I'm sure she is a very nice girl, you know, she would do well to play with the other children"

Shells.

So many kinds, awful or buttery pasta on a fork, pasta shells or the kinds that are made to protect people formed out of dried blood that end up swallowing you whole, swallows. swallow blood, spit, tears, suck it up. the sound of swallows and sparrows screaming outside like sirens then falling deathly silent as if they knew. no one knows except the birds, they hold my secrets in their cavernous eyes and frail bodies, slaves to instinct, you are the god of nothing and no one. the whole world silent for those few seconds and of course, the kinds of shells that sea creatures die inside, they built up walls and all that is left once they die is a monument to everything they were afraid of, a temple to the gods that terrified you, a museum

millennia and decades of evolution have led to the very moment, the very peak where you were born with such a shell. it is nature, it is hunger, are you afraid or were you just born this way?

born with a shell,

reptile crucifix

i forgot how funny disembodied voices were

someday i hope to catch a glimpse of what is inside these walls / the bathroom door handle casts a heart-shaped shadow on the door / i like to draw disfigured humans still the same parts in the right order but something is off / i wonder if they poured water on the earth would it encase

around us,

surround us

drown us

/ how do unborn birds not drown in their shells / i think i saw god in my bath drain

i have a soft blue blanket that i like to cover myself in like a tent. but after a while i can't breathe, i look up and think this is the sky isn't it? why isn't there isn't room for me to breathe any more? and i imagine the blue ripples and light shining through fabric to be water encasing the globe that we live on. would we learn to fly like gods? when would all the air run out? the first to die would be the birds. they didn't drown in their first shells, but this one will be the death of them. and they will drop out of the sky, it will rain birds and then i tear it off

[bel[L]am[P]sychide]:cockroaches are not evil

is evil taught or handed to you in some sort of subliminal package ? only

things with

hands can be, evil,

they get to choose

being born with hands: an awful thing

i have a painting done by

a man born with no hands

i see a photo of him proudly holding, a painting of god

Untitled

i am braced always,

for something

i dont know when its coming

or what it is

i wonder who it will be.

PART TWO

Pair O’Sights

Wax

The problem with robots that learn off of humans, is that they always try to convince you they are the human and you are the robot.

Blood spots on my shirt / socks and sandals / rain jacket / eyes like empty cups fill like pools / watery spider-eyes / people say i am apathetic and have little

energy / I used it all up before i knew how to

/ burnt out in the womb fighting for my life

Candle-wax eyes, glazed and sane

I strangled the disease with my bare hands, unborn my own sibling Only one of us can live / i killed it after a long time, it was killing both of us i had to

…carry it around. We were attached--born from the same mother, one of us was a sickness and i couldn’t tell which for a while

Which one was hurting her,

It was the tapeworm after all.

(Con)join

my brother and i,

we are the same

Waxgod

Right handed, left handed, your not handed at all

used up your strength when you,

Hercules,

strangled the snake in your cradle

PART THREE

Nullchild

we all become cement in the end

the moment light flooded in unhinged bats flopping from their torn wings, shrieking in agony even though they didn't know the word...their nerves told them, they didn't need to know there was

just hurt even with no eyes i knew something was even worse it was always like this

we were all collapsing, sickening pain i shouldn't know the words for, shards

of glass and this was all

i had ever known

i had barely even formed, not even enough to have a consciousness but the barest form of muscle-pain knew, i had not been hatched from this prison-egg, the mother who was still here, get us out,

so close from the door

but i did know that hell was too soft a word for this.

shattered thermal stars and broken glass everywhere, they pierced the shell all around holding me cradling me through this new world delivering me into a savage, barren land where we were all sentenced to be ripped apart and burn, both our eyes burn in sync dancing with demonic flames

i was also birthed from suffering misery was my mother and satan was my father and i can barely hear them through these walls but now glass rains down around me and floats in an endless swamp of darkness but i never wanted to see this way, i can feel the light-bulb

burning me from the

inside-out

both our eyes burn together, i don't think the

sun is very pretty

i want to leave this world

i always knew i wouldn't be around long enough to live

Lull

nullchild, lullchild,

lull me to sleep

down in the drags where the depths don't speak

hide me away in a prison-box nest

forever and ever till god gives me rest