i can grow into the soil
and split into pieces be planted as cutting
while like a worm with a thousand hearts i can aerate my hovel to be shelter and eating
while the bird that thrives on me feeds the gosling my pieces as i turn into sheathing
it is the bird that holds the peace, to just take from the system and keep the wheels rolling
the bird is so like me I’m just growing and eating to keep my heart beating
the abstract shape of the jay’s fallen young
as it rots into sidewalk my branches become numb
the organ and iron that fuse with my carbon
the darkened spot that the rotted bird gave um
a piece of the self thats been processed by others
indistinct from the part that once loved her
i continue to branch into some deeper fabric that sucks at my roots
just another new habit i guess
i can rot into the soil
and try to resurface the face of a lost twin
it spins in my stomach to be birthed in my refuse
to replace me as cancer in some broken half circle
like a rot of the system i wither to fungus, my muscles my tendons are losing their tension
the bird thats so like me holding flame to its feathers seeking kind of affection
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