...

still swimming through uncharted waters,
past the bleach white carcasses, once alive
released by the hands that birthed life -
now rotting. her umbilical chord
steadies me through vibrations. i am but a child fresh out
of womb. missing strength,
sucking away at her balance as she
provides nutrition at the battlefront,
behind the ribcage and into my
safe box.
a year shy of 25- though my shadows
are lacking what you would call
woman.
i do not recognize myself by definition-
starved for pureness I feel
naivety will be the quicksand tofinally end me. 

and she can only hold out a
hand (that feeds so warmly) for so long before i
take her veins for my own. tear her marzipan
skin with the fever of a beast. pressed firmly against mine-
the scent of fresh root enters.
alive. this must be independance.
and the hands that birthed life rise
by the calling of the sea. crippled, i watch
as she becomes yet another carcass
swimming among the ruins. one of
many in a dead sea. red, fury, my duty
is to survive in this temple.
and i shall stand firmly, finally, if only for
a year's time or so, wretched from
selfish survival
as it took hers. 

from time and guilt
i will make amends. and with the same
umbilical chord that kept me afloat,
gently i will ribbon right into its jaw,
and my body will squeeze itself dry
of every selfish cry.