Thursday, April 5, 2012


the karma wolf is at my door, waiting to sterilize me. fix me, rip out my female bits, teach my insides a lesson. there will be no legacy for me, it all dies now on the feral fangs of lustful fate. eviscerated, a science project. my anatomy leaking onto cold tile, i hold the severed space between my legs and cling to identity while he howls only a few steps behind, the messenger of my actions, exercising the punishment of self. mother, it says from bloody pile of spilled ova, mother i am born to show you how to die.

--Emily Smith-Miller

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