Growth

Sweet flesh transformed scraping teeth, dry eyes, flaking skin, skin so swollen trying to cope I feel the affects more than ever now something is growing festering

Eating and drinking and consuming my blood, my life, my energy, my calcium engorging my body, bursting my breasts ripping and tearing and screaming its way out of me They placed this bloodied mangled thing that wriggled on my chest scrapping for more, more more Happy Birthday, my child

The doctor brings it up. I have never asked for a way out. He offers it to me always.

Fists clenched and convulsing. Dead, dying unborn. That would not be unusual, for a girl of your age.

The blood looks yellow, as it hits the floor, diluting from the moment it leaves me. It is a good sign, that I am working.

Boiled over with corruption, perfect cyst aching to be popped. Fish eyes, my fish eggs escaping the tank. A new reflection in the mirror, someone green, greasy and lank.

Find it hard to believe, she built this all for you, and knowing this, you have left her disappointed.

The mirror shows me. She is licking her lips, running her tongue over sharpened teeth. It all comes out now; it all comes out wrong.