Birds in a nest, fighting over whose going to eat the worm, groping with beaks but in blindness as newborns, smelling the worm, wanting it, demanding it, biting for it, clawing your sibling, must to get it before the others, only one worm from mother's beak, whose going to get it, you or me?
Fighting like a puppy to be nursed from your mother's breast, kicking back all your siblings, to be the one who is nursed, not enough milk to go around, squeezing nipples that one day will go dry, thirsting and desiring, finding other mothers with milk-filled breasts, lips dry and body's dehydrated, being one's own mother, finding a well of water that has no end, feeling the warmth and security but as an imagined instead of real state, doing without, imagining that you are doing with.
Birds and puppies in store windows to be sold. Birds that have no worms and puppies who cannot suckle. Buy me.
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