The Phantasmic Creature of Sickness

The echoes have returned And they bear some bad news The spawns are buried deep With no liberty to lose Maybe, these are waters with algae, They're rich if murky Forestalling for weeks on end Before more capillaries have to fragment It is a holy blessing, after all, to finally pray Thirty days a month, five times a day Or walk around the city’s mesmerizing Without a hand to the belly’s throbbing But there’s a living that feeds on time It grows beneath these pores of mine Hairs crawl out but leave no trace My hands, my legs, and my face It grows and grows and I notice my clothes Tighten my pose for my thighs are too close An hourglass no more but an apple to stay The numbers under my feet rise everyday Metres that many are not necessary To smoke these lungs away There’s a dead weight to carry - making me weary - Blind to the wishes I make The mirrors have changed And my body feels strange My scalp feels so foreign All its strands, it betrays So any hand that runs through Gets caught up in a mess A handful of locks The size of distress There is a capsule for each day Vitamins and metformin Ayurveda along the way, But the scarlet’s staying in No moonlights are enough To cast a shadow over the scars caused By the monster I could never snuff These bloodshot eyes have been robbed There is no tragedy as dire As a woman having to quaver The only being that could grow inside of her Is something she could never mother