Crazy Legs

Crazy are your legs when blood flows between them

When the thick, dark hair gets matted and the heat builds beneath them

Molting womb! I cry, what moves you to make me quake?

What primordial urge deserves the purge this kind of recourse?

This sensation?

I don't want to call it pain, just unsure. 

Is it right for your body to reject itself?

Is this par for the course?

It comes from the source of me, 

My identity

My womanhood

Flesh and meaty, right in front of me

Bleeding