I was born blue disconnected from skin by scissors connected to tape and tubes kicking in a see through cot crying at the cleanliness of ghosts. I was born blue From a seeded fruit To a rotten core where umbilical machines choked me with oxygen so I could breathe and mirrors could be looked at by pristine womb assassins. I was born blue, Blinded and brain dead From a furnace of spoons As Mummy was eating for none And shooting for two. I died grey Needing a fix. Mummy found rehab, God and a crucifix, Hiding highs in foil At the bottom of cisterns, As I was buried low Beneath an unnamed grave In a zip code of granite The wombs of the damned.