Silence Favourite Routine
She's my baby
abortive child
my miscarriage
the kind that draws a smile
She's my womb
a sperm with style
a foetus unborn to be wild
Pale and divine
innocent and weak
endlessly frail
useless so to speak
Your lips are blue
eyes rimmed in black
I'm drawn to you
you're such a wreck
She's growing stronger
it's obscene
licking her wounds was
my favourite routine
watching her heartbeat
on the screen
wondering if she'll turn nineteen
… or not
Mistakes are repeated
lessons ignored
I guess it's OK
as long as we're not bored
History is the finest whore
everyone comes back for more
Must we go down
on our knees again?
Must we be dumb
just because we can?
