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Untitled | by NymphoBrainiac
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when you're safe in the womb.

apathetically numb.

getting high off debris, endometrial rum.

nobody comes in and nothing gets out.

your sycamore mom suppressing your doubt.

waiting asleep you ponder your move.

emerging from innocent puddles of drool.

the forest below awaiting your rest.

preparing to suckle on nature's ripe breast.

the timing so right with no time to wait.

the seasons of change deciding your fate.

so open the doors, I've used up the womb.

congenitally dumb.

it's time for more room.



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Taken on October 21, 2008