There will be regret, so much regret, I know this
          Yet
The alien thoughts of rebirth quickens in my gut, thickly moving with determined osmosis, to drive the very tides of my blood
To ultimately insinuate itself
Into the fibers of my nervous system.
Climbing up and into the pithy stem
To feel with my starry-ed synapses, to see with my own eyes
The parasite's willowy dendra
Protectively cupping the soft mass of my brain,
Tenderly releasing biochemical panaceas
   --The Mother of me--
I rise, a new creature,
Half of me mercifully dead,
Full of possibilities.