the child

i dreamt again of a baby. i am holding it close to my chest, kissing its cheeks eagerly. i am obsessed with its features, its every movement. i bring it close to keep it warm. every thing out of my mouth is nonsense, and all i can seem to do is coo or else stand silent inside myself.

i am filled with the radiant sensation of complete devotion. my being is charged, alive, and dedicated to complete submission and purpose.

sometimes, i dream that the baby is not mine, just simply in my charge. i kiss it all the same. sometimes, the baby is more mine than i can express; and there is a nebulous physical tug perceived from inside my body which extends to the child, is connected to the child, is integral to the child.

sometimes, there is a journey we must take together. sometimes, there is nothing at all required but my affection.


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