Growing Egg

One riotous evening father eyed mother,
he lusted for her cunt.
That bedroom night of passion, now spent,
his ejection found egg.

Egg’s slow growth in mother was I,
feasting on her flesh.
For nine months we danced, coupled,
then contraction and cut.

I baby clutched at life and mother,
sucking at her breast.
She snorted my infant perfume, love drug,
her lactation and soap.

Then dreamily I played with dolls,
mother was my world.
I helped her bake and clean, we shopped,
her vocation I learned.

Magazines fed mature and I gorged,
digesting all their pap.
Powder preserved with lips, cherry crush,
teen perfection man made.

That brings me to today’s young adult,
desired so am I.
Lusted after as I walk, through town,
no rejection not ever.

Randomly I agree to drinks and we,
all know what follows,
and he’s onto the next conquest, after
his ejection I swallow.

Father, how do you see my friends?
Sexy and sweet at sixteen?
Mother you let this be, object I,
my contention is you.