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parasite baby that doesn’t want to hatch
im in my egg
i was lain somewhere perfect
plenty of blood to feed on
i can hear it just outside my egg
a pleasant wooshing
gushing
movement
its so stagnant in here
stuffy
it takes me a moment to realize what i am
my fangs
and thousands of legs
my bulgy eyes
and tough exoskeleton
the blood wooshes around me
something distant brushes against itself
in large peals like thunder
a constant thunder
perhaps a dog
maybe a cat
hopefully not a person
before i was something else
i had to be
with the way my stomach
— do i even have one of those?—
drops when it sets in
the blood smells, sounds, is,
delicious
but the thunder roars in the background
my egg is stuffy
and stagnant
i curl tighter into myself
i bite my own legs
and squishy membranes that harden as the days go by
at some point i hear eggs cracking
and my siblings emerging
i hear big tears rips
the subsequent oozing, congealing of something
alive
and the final skittering slurping chirping
of my siblings
feeding
i curl tighter into myself
some of my legs break off
with how hard ive been chewing
some of the plates on my back
crack open, expose my softer viscera
my egg fills with fluid
my fluid
fluid like the oozing gushing warmth
just outside
that just as easily could be mine
as could be the thunders
what stops it from taking
whats mine?
what is mine?
the decision
to take and eat
partake in revolting nourishment
to become what i was
born to be
i am not what i am
nor am i what i could be
i will become nothing
if only to say
that nothing
was mine
