There is something inside of me,
Below my ribs and above my hips,
Nestled deep and primal.
Perhaps it’s organs, a stomach that gurgles,
Intestines that churn and push sustenance,
A womb that reminds me that an animal is all I am;
That the reason I live, crave and fill my lungs,
Is to pass this to another,
Who will grow and form, with duplicating cells and hormones,
With the same quandary.
That’s what nature wants;
My aches, and pains, my woes and desperation,
And humans are no different than nature.
Pack animals that scramble,
Crabs in a bucket desperate for the last scraps of remains from the kill.
Desperate to not be exiled into the empty world,
Bigger than anything can comprehend.
Safety in numbers. Safety in packs.
Safety in society,
That will always focus on something inside of me,
Below my ribs and above my hips.
Life cares not about survival,
It cares about duplication; exponential growth.
Don’t you dare live without it. Curse another.
You must curse another, or you will cease to exist soon after your death.
Something exists inside of me,
Below my ribs and above my hips.
It makes me feel sick.
Something that reminds me that no matter how still I lie,
Blood will rush up my neck,
Sparks will flash in my brain,
Things will duplicate whether I want to curse them or not.
They are every decision I make.
I am not the pilot but the ship; small and
Scared and
Ready to be devoured the moment I am vulnerable.
There is meat,
and the meat cries out.
There is something inside of me,
Below my ribs and above my hips,
And it wants to live.