handcrafted

there’s something primal

about the uterine fluid

we were both born into

and there’s no amount

of reality that will

make this encasing

something I crave

for there is nothing

in this world

more frutrating

than

not knowing

who you are

like when I walked

into Starbucks and

gave them the

wrong name

a new identity

a fresh mark

of handwriting

on a cup

turning me into

someone I am not

like an eternal

constipation

we are trying

to find

our way back

to when we were

the unborn

not formed

not written

not named

by another