I feel the beast calling to me
consuming me back into her belly
and it feels so familiar
so warm and homely
nostalgically remembering it being my home
I developed inside of her
cooing like a baby to her grumblings
rocked to sleep by her roars
kept warm by the fire broiling inside of her
and now that she has called me back,
back home
I wonder if this is,
in fact, my true home
because strangely,
I feel more comfortable inside of her belly
as if this was her womb
and birthed the warrior and man that I came to be
what would I be outside of her
who would I be without her
though she breeds danger
I know her softer side
I know her what’s deep inside
because it is where I reside
and the inside is what counts
though the hypocrisy of the world only knows her externally
so she is named, regarded, and judged as doom
and men, wounded men-
seen as savages-
are sent to her to meet their doom
but it was the wretched ways of the world-
that first doomed me-
funny how that works
and as I claim to desire to get back out
to have my freedom above all else
not for the mere fact of having freedom
because I have found that within myself,
but for what I would now do with freedom
yet I found freedom inside, of all places
do I want to get out?
do I really?
the embers of flame brooding inside of her
sending shockwaves to my spine
as my hairs rise like a porcupine’s
salivating as I open my mouth to ventilate
the smoke inhalation is akin to fresh baked cookies out of the oven
and I feast upon my own destruction
what else is there to do?
this, is no place for man
this is no place for mail
but like any cast away,
I was forced to make it a place for me
while I was returned to the belly of the beast
with a note, “damaged male, return to sender”
because the world and I still had things to address
and freedom hadn’t built a home for me yet
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