The Gift

My purple innards gnaw at their selves
And my body trembles and growls
Nauseous waves wash across my belly

The mornings seem bleak and grey
As if life has been rolled into a lump
Of depressing, slimy grey clay

Nights are tales written in turmoil
Of laboured breathing and a wrench
In my piteously lonely heart

I prepare the gift you so longed for
I grind my soul as my body revolts
I shriek like a mute banshee all night

My tongue feels like heavy lead
Your touch clutches me at my throat
My breasts swell and the pain spreads

Till I claw into my quivering belly
And seek to violate my own self
I seek release from relentless hate

At last, the mucous and the blood
Brings forth a creature of flesh
My repulsion does surge, take it away

Your gift, carved out from my body
You wanted my blood in its veins
I hurl it at you, and walk away