the womb that is my room

my bed, clenched like a child
inside the womb that is my room
and i the fetus, crumble down
as painstaking pulse of life
pound my heart
til it breaks, how such beauty be so brittle


my fist stabbed into my heart
to stop the blooming of pain
as my forehead reach the top of my toe
wordless, they articulate
the misery of the abandoned


as the night carry an amber breeze
that surrounds the moon
creating a galaxy masacre
and i imagine the rape of luna
now bleeding with stars
that continuously scar the sky
jet black to acid red of pain


if the sky is in chaos
like an unending war for peace
unhealable wound of love
where else can i hide
but back to the womb that is my room
and keep my sorrows adrift like seafoams
at the edge of my bed
this little abode--is the safest
if not a home.