What I Am

Two entities from the same species, entwine their bodies. Kiss each other’s lips, necks, breasts, bellies, genital organs. Float away into earthly heaven climax.

Here’s a baby, a young boy who’s confused about his identity. Looks up with eyes of innocence to both man, and woman in the age of their maturities.

Deep down he knows, that he was just white sticky, a bit smelly liquids that hide in the thing behind his father pants. Liquids that exist because all kinds of meals his father throws to his appetite.

His mother is just a receiver, just an entrusting place, for a little while. Which provide the same things as they provide him out here. Shelter, foods, and drinks.

And there she goes, another new born baby, his little sister.

“So what’s the authorities that makes himself theirs?”

His parents couldn’t know that all their babies are made by plants, animals, milks, and other ingredients on this planet, so as themselves.

Nothing is you.

Nothing is yours.

Everything is already here, and belong here.

“Huuuh,” gasps the boy. “I never know what I am.”