Hard Labor

Alright, so I wrote this sometime after midnight when I should have been reading Dickens. There was a lot of should-be-reading-Dickens last night. Anyway, I was frustrated with lack of communication despite the fact that it's completely logical. It's kind of grotesque.
________________

What can I say to you?

I love you. I hate you. But no--no--I love you.
My words are being squeezed out of me. Painful and incohesive.
A lover giving birth to a dead baby. A gift that will hurt us both.
The labor of getting this poison out of me might take me down. It's all sweat and tears, and an uncomfortable bedside supporter who doesn't remember his contribution.
..... I didn't make that thing. I couldn't give it my all. I pulled out. I'm pulling out.
..... Whose is it?
Breathe in. Breathe out. Push. Push! Okay, easyyy. Wait a bit, now.
..... You have to be careful with babies. Give them enough rope; push them the wrong
.....way—and they hang themselves. Problem is: it’s hard to see in a darkroom. You don’t see
.....what's developed until it's come to light.
Push!: I’d like a hand to hold, but my effort might break its fingers.
..... A lover lost to loss.
Wait. Wait? No! Get it out. This gift needs to be shared. No, I’ll push.
..... A gift lost to impatience.
But wait: it’s out. Let me count.
..... A head full of hair and a glimmer of silver.
..... Two beautiful eyes immune to the light.
..... Two petal-ears.
..... Two arms, two legs.
..... A torso—Thank God.
..... Ten little toes.
..... Ten little fingers, grasping.
.......... love
.......... affection
.......... need
.......... confusion
.......... obligation
.......... time
.......... strength
.......... weakness
.......... friendship
.......... lust
..... A dull, wrinkled body the color of death.
And.
..... A strangely articulate mouth
.......... Knowing its place at my chest
A slimy weight on my chest and a lost supporter.
..... Take it off.
The literate dead-word-baby wails its zombie cry. It eats my brains.
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I threw in a little joke there at the end. It's not all that funny, but--hey--I'm maintaining my warped sense of humor.

Comments are a beautiful, beautiful thing. Though I don't blame you if you can't get past the baby zombie; it was kind of weird.

x ah

Argh... editing posts is a horrible process. The blogger got rid of all my indentations, and I just wasted a lot of time trying to figure out how to keep them--hence the stupid periods showing up everywhere...