I swallow a fraction of stolen light.

desperate for courage, too lost to find my way.

marked by time, I shed the winter weeds


hard, from the flower bed, I am

born. the wicked tempest,

my mother, licks the nectar from my lips.


I force myself upward. pieces

of childhood still stuck, to my

pollen kissed undertoes.


new air burns down my throat,

reaching for the sun, begging to be filled.

mouth wide. let me be plucked.


dew slips past me, reveling flesh,

and fingers, and tastes. only to watch,

as the light burns a new hole in my flesh.


vibrant colors peel forth around me,

letting loose a surge of unattainable shapes.

and pink, the wicked color, losses it's grip.


I am quickly softened,

by hands more sinful then my own.

and I am born. baby, I am born.