Foetus Foe
What is that?!My head's on springs
(whatever they are)
And things
Are bouncing
And I'm feeling
Sick
And reeling
Like I'm drunk
And fuzzy
And all
Is muzzy
And my mouth is full
Of wanting to shout
And let this vile...
I must have passed out.
It's tomorrow now
(My concepts about time are confused)
And I realise that she went out last night
And boozed:
I shared it with her
But didn't have buy a round
(Though I am paying now;
With every sound
Being a noise
That cracks and splits
And, oh God (whatever that is)
I feel one of those fits
Coming on again.
The last time, I nearly lost hope
(Whatever that is)
And tried to umbilically rope
My neck
Out of this mess
And make my growing more
Become a peaceful less.
What is that?!
The surge
Of caffeine
Returns the urge
To vomit
And retch
In this prison of poison
And wretch.
This always follows
The drink:
Does she (whatever a she is)
Never think
To think
About me?
Me, taking
The same as her
In my restless waking
When I should be
Rest-preparing
In her womb
Of caring?
What is that?!
Dizzy again, the head,
The sick:
I wish I was dead
(Whatever that is)
And the need to cough
Makes my throat burst:
Please let me out, let me off!
It is the afternoon:
I am starving
And something is coming in
But the worse is worsening instead of halving;
It's more of the same,
The first one
I know the cycle is beginning
(With the worst one)
And I have to look forward
To the recovery
By the others in the gang:
Does she have no discovery
Within her developed
Brain
That my developing orb
Cannot take it again, again?
13:15, Thu. 24/05/07.
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 659 times
Written on 2007-05-25 at 12:42
Tags Pregnancy
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Peter Humphreys |
