Separate the yolk from the—
Don’t separate anything!
Feed through your fingertips
Feel that—my heart dripping
An old blood sac
Bursting at the seams
Separate the yolk from the—
Don’t separate anything!
Grandmother scolds
We keep it all
Whether we’re dyeing
Or scrambling
Or dribbling egg down our chins
At least they’ll know
We fed the mouths around here
Separate the yolk from the—
Don’t separate anything!
My only chance at a family
Frozen and sold away
A bakers half, half, half a dozen
Maybe AI can feed me an egg
Yolk some sense out of this
Mess they call a body
There’s no misery here worth
A sunny side up.
About the Creator
Bride of Sound
I explore themes of altered perception, distortion of the body, and dysfunctional romance. Sometimes chaotic, attempting to control.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.