My mind is pregnant,
seeded with something not mine:
I can feel myself changing,
something growing inside.

Yours.

Swells and moods and cravings of –
something… Feelings of abjection?
Everyone notices the change,
but they’re too polite to ask;
behind my back they wonder
while it grows into something strange.

Yours.

This fire in my mind,
this foreign piece of me
leaks out of my pores
and I’m pregnant with rage…
I’m pregnant with yours.