I was born in a story you wouldn't believe.
I was born in the back of a minivan
sitting on the rails of a one track mind.
I was born out of a need for gluttony.
My father couldn't handle my beauty
and committed himself to 50 years of tilting
shining self destruction. I was born atop a mountain
that was once a molehill. No one could see
the rising sun for all the jutting inconsistencies
of the heaving throne beneath me.
I was born in and out of a wave violently
caressing the coast of a chiming belltower,
tulip and rose blooms ripped from their stems.