The Face In The Embryo

I spent seventeen nights in the city, watching the horizon beckon for a buck knife...to bludgeon it's belly, to end the pregnancy. I've spent seventeen night in the city, watching the face in the embro, traced by fleshy twilight, pleading for cesarean. You can seeit allf rom the rooftops... a swollen vagina in the sky. Threateningbirth...three shades of blood to soak its bed. One: firey red for the shutdownof the science bled sun. Two: viscious black for the sex lives of the sciene fed youth. Three: milk white for the impossible vista of the skyline as it shorte dout, crackled with static and was replaced by a network of newsprint. You can see it all from the rooftops...a swollen vagina in the sky. So close you can smell the morphine in its veins.