Pre-eclempsia


I want this cry
It burns and I smile
A searing towering choking yoke
That will allow for vindication, or death
In this the precipice I glean towards
Falling like a lemming into the empty
Feeling its force in my neck, under my eyes
Knowing my blood is surging
Absorbing that surge, riding its crest
Uncontrolled
Towards death and decimating rage
Control would be too precious
Too decadent
Too terrifying
Floating through my own tyranny preferable to The Breathing, The Pauses,
The overpowering of my instinct.

But I do it for you, dearest
Once blastocyst of my womb, on this gray day, wet, with rain, as I watch the leaves shiver
I protect you from myself,
My rage,
My humanity
I give you peace, and so find myself wanting
Cathartic, limp
Leaving my tear to reabsorb into my eye.

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