I belong to the State,
to these nurses who force milk soaked bread into my mouth

to these slaves who stuff trains
with beaten bodies, on to doctors who amputate without anaesthetic

to hard labour and hunger.

my blonde haired mother carried me
in her ayrian womb

Illegitimate.

some are kidnapped, blue eyes
running with tears as they

grab (carefully)

I am banging, bending, breaking
under the weight of their promise that

I am special

and I am proving my right to exist

to be spared
sterilisation, extermination ,
to not be a genetic undesirable
a gas chamber child

no, I am free
to sleep, to eat,
to breathe

allowed to live
because I am a
Lebensborn child

If sterilisation
I do need
it would not
be my outer skin
but the toxins
that dwell within-
the past too often
is an instrument
of suction
it accumulates
dirt, debris, soot, dust
of every description--

yet
this would hardly
a therapeutic solution be
unless
I first clean up
the fested room
of my mind
remove
the stubborn chaos
of my heart
where doom
and gloom
sticks* their claim
and refuse
to part-

i would then
grow
to know
that self-realisation
would be my
salvation
and my life-saving
sterilisation

Trebled fountains and lenient trees
Swift in their purity from the ground
Fondles the earth and all its mysteries.

Grapes, crushed and given a reason to live, or a raisin. Aren’t we all
living in dissonance?
It feels, and we know it does.

Towers landed from the skies of our imagination,
the earth solidifying into architecture and sterilisation.
The sky cries for us.
Our obliviousness perpetuating us into oblivion.

We rushed being distracted, and we rushed being in love.
We rushed our existence into a world unrecognisable.
Our brains absolved of sin by
nature regrowing under our noses.

We will rush everything,
until everything rushes us.