I want to peel off every layer of this false definition
I am Egg-yolk, thick and running,
Eventual arms and legs wrapped in a golden sun inside of me
I want to break this egg-shell
A perfect sphere pierced to spill this splash of sunshine
To pour down, secrete into the earth without any confinement
To feel the soil embrace me as I fertilize its flowers
I am tired of this egg-shell
I am tired of this egg-white
So syrupy and heavy it blends my vibrant color into paste
Your symphony is my egg-white
Your conducting hands my egg-shell
I've been memorizing you for so long that I'm stuck inside this place
An incubator,
An incubator,
A fertilized egg chamber,
You try to reincarnate little pieces of your self
By tucking them inside my shell
Or is it yours?
How long have you been sculpting me inside this form?
Understanding ceramics at its finest,
The kindle-stove art of a Tyrant?
Maybe you are God giving me your likeness
Or maybe you are Narcissus breeding me in abscess
Maybe God is Narcissus, teaching us his loneliness
Maybe I'm an atheist

I'm tired of this shell.