Conception

then it so happened that I was cast back to the eve of my making trapped and scorn within the belly of a prostitute it was (I'm quite sure) determined at that moment of exit that I would walk the world of poetry the wandering imagination alone and desperate for love warmth a gentle touch or kiss upon the cheek a morning perhaps without the company of rat and roach. but no, this creature who bore me sold herself to anyone with a coin - the denomination, it seemed, did not matter - traveling in the shadow of her and the alley. ridicule spewed upon her (us), like vomit at a port tavern, and she took it! kisses she gave upon every part of the paying mans body not once did she touch me, talk to me, look upon me. I was, must have been, still in her death probably am the bane that infected her life. even as I watched her waste, lanced and bled repeatedly, but to no avail until her blood was gone, and I could spit upon her limp body. I left that moment with no regret, wondering: 'how many times had my father seen me, as he passed the coin, and sqeezed her breast?' it was unimportant as she was unimportant as I am unimportant.