I want to say nothing. Only that I’m here with no bones, no contentions, no nothings, I’m here, I feel, I walk. I’m only worried about the very small kids on the tiny bikes. I’m worried that I’ll never be able to be as alive as when pushing a small head out of my vagina. Or C section. I’m worried that my existence means nothing to no one. If you are reading this, text me with the word: RIPE. 07845046726