She was arguing with her uterus about the science of the heart. Every dead egg she'd pissed into the toilet throughout her life was her evidence. A perfect hysteria womanhood kept mute for over thirty years. Love is simply the survival of the species. Not a device for individual happiness. Just a tool of nature to keep itself alive.
She was cold. As they tread there in open water of her thoughts. She listened quietly as her uterus spoke in tortured clenches about a world it wished to be a part of.
Love is pure Darwin. The heart is a means to an end. Love is science divided until only flesh is left. The science of the heart is right there inside of us. Life making itself inside me. Me spitting it out.
It's the only benefit of being human. That I can overule the science inside me.
Tuesday
10/30/2007 12:09:00 AM
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