Baby Bird

I have split open. I ran out of fingers, and the bird hatched inside. There was a soft chirp before the new body was crushed between my teeth. I found my fingers. My heart wracks, trembling alongside my fingers as I pull out the remains. The body of the bird has been masticated. You do not know why the bird wished to be hatched within you. You knew you were too tight. Too small. Too hard. And very breakable but not breakable enough. There are remaining feathers caught between your teeth, cheeks and tongue, but the damage is done and your everything is gone. 

You can’t remember why you were meant to watch the bird. It passed as your fingers worked on its cage, slowly brightening in front of you. Your bird deserves no less than the finest. Gold. Perhaps your bird wished to die by your hands. Teeth. Did not want freedom or captivity. Sensing them the same. 

It hits you later that your bird was precocious. The thought lifts your spirits. You gave it what it wanted. You do not know if what it wanted was in alignment with what it could have wanted. You do not know if you made a mistake, or merely saved it from everything it could never want. 

As the days pass you question what it is to want. It is perhaps the very essence of existence. Existence does not need essence without want. Want given to it by its own. At this point you have stopped sleeping. You miss the bird that did not want to know. You want to know what it is to not know. The bird was perhaps clearer sans sight. Sans the fruits of desire that emerge from sight. Knowledge.

You think. Again. Think. You keep at it. Thinking. Day turns to night and your thoughts transgress past consciousness. You peer into the mirror, and watch distortions flurry wildly by the sparse spaces of moonlight. You are entering the territory of the bird. Your bird. The moonlight tints the darkness green, and you float. You are adopting the perspectives of people who aren’t there. You see the insides of someone watching you. Penetrated into their subjective consciousness. The pleasure lives beyond the reach of human language. You get to taste the world on the tongue of another. You understand why the bird asked for this now. The bird knew closeness. Dissolve in the green moon dark room, spread the playground of your corporeality across the moment.