the soft warm moist area, the perfect place. Trapped within freedom. Fish-gill'd and submerged in perfected temperature aqua, being massaged by flagella fingers on my every nerve ending.
They say the younger one is, the slower time moves for them. So perhaps a zygote perceives eternity.
What is this chaos?! I'm being pushed out...rejected by the pleasure, the sustenance. The Everything. Squeezed out like the last bit of a poor man's toothpaste.
Apparently, eternity isn't immortal. It died.
Birth happened. Life occurred. Eyes opened. Alarms when off.
And suddenly, from only knowing warmth, I'm cold. Felt like...
Children's Hospital, Antarctica.
They severed the cord of my only source of nourishment. I inhaled their gritty particulate-filled cologne stenches, coating my lungs with pseudo-purified sludge.
To make sure I understood something, they smacked me so I'd cry. Release the saline.
PAIN rules here, boy.
Pain, suffering and then death. Oh you don't believe us? Well, we're going to cut the skin off the tip of the one thing that can ever return you partly to the pleasure you just came from, but with reduced potency. A circum-exor-cism to give you only a spectre-glimpse, to tease you, so that you may experience pain more deeply. You'll search for this pleasure ever after...and never have your fill.
Trust us. We are doctors.
We are here to save you.
Nurse, get the needles and inject this boy with disease-laden vaccine scorpions. It's just like a little voodoo doll with a soul injured with every prick. (Pricks.) And take some of his blood.
Now give him back to his mother,
scarred, bled, violated, cold...Now feed him poison. Give him a sip of fluorinated chlorine pool piss to quench his thirst. He's had a long journey.
...and has a lot further, farther to go.