Dialouge:
Oh, welcome my child. Please come in. Let us speak.
Oh I see you're pregnant
isn't that sweet
would you happen to have a morsel for me to eat
wait a minute, hold on
i see your tummy kickin'
with feet so tiny, they're good enough for lickin
Opps did I let that slip from my black lips?
and did it roll down
and caress my hips?
(Chorus)
do you want your baby
think about it a while
they're loud, they're crazy and they cramp your style
Give it to me, I'll take care-I SWEAR
I give it love and...cute underwear?
Just give me your baby
give me your baby
give me your baby
GIVE ME YOUR BABY
hahahahahahhaa
Let me drop him
Sophia in her naked brilliance, but I
imagine her a gown of blue cashmere.
She is in my mind.
She wanders the glial valleys.
She skims the neural banks of synaptic rivers.
She kneels on the shore of the Sea of Memes and weeps.
....
Her hair shivers like moonlight caught in winter ice.
Each delicate strand is a Continuum frozen in
time that willows over her pale cheeks and
unravels about her slender neck into
asymmetric, pluripotent glory.
I think of an eclipsed Sun's corona, but the
scent of her escapes the reach of every analogue.
She weeps
while the waves hiss and lap at her wrists.
Her tears are Dimensions of light and salt