I have returned to my once discarded blog
my want for an outlet for my swollen womb
has got the better of me philosophy and i
in this deadly embrace nurturing yet sinister
its offspring and its foe embroiled in one
it seems in my moments away i have returned to my platonic cave
feasting off my own ever abundant well
might i be now as the dandelion casting off her seeds whether they bloom or not
whilst previously i have been the mother hen vivaciously guarding all her eggs
The individual is always at odds with the tribe
sectioned and alone for their conflictorary existence
the loneliness bothers me not
but my womb
and its birth pangs
painting a muriel of a perfect earth
for what are doctors without patients
mere surveyors of hospital wards
what are generals without a war
hunters without prey
the lame without aid
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