I am wondering what happens when your skeleton renews. What about my skeleton. Every seven years it's new, says the myth. Is my skeleton a lease? What are the details of my contract? How much do I really pay each month to live here? My bone structure is promoted with each turnover it survives, but what happens to the deposits and minerals and calcium, what happens to what I've eaten to make me, what happens to it inside, the salad leaves growing soggy with my dressing. Does bone dissolve internally? Am I a self-consuming cannibalistic broth, brewing in the cauldron of my bowels, my belly, no matter how flat or rotund or muscled or soft. I am liquid inside, I am solids sewn in, I have my own tailored boning in the dressing of my body, my skeletal corset I wear with pride, the hourglass that supports me from my walk to my recline to my stretch to my doubled-over heaving pose. Which is your favorite look on me? Careful in the middle, it's the weak spot, the tunneled vision, the chicken bone in the throat, the tongue jammed down, the airway blocked: no breathing, no air, no brain to keep up. Intake, uptake. Breathe. Again. Oxygen starts with "o" for "oh" for colloquial zero. A blockade against oxygen in the brain leads to autonomous autobiographic autodidactic autophagy autopsy.
I am autochthonous, that is, indigenous a native person or presently placed from where I was formed: a rock. Conglomerate body or precious gemstone: composite finds or polished face: uniquely eccentric or highly valuable?
If my bones are dense but full of vital nutrients, does growing mean I am becoming more valuable only if I am taller and longer than another, does it only mean that I would make heartier stock than my comparison? Does my stock hold more worth in the market, am I bought and sold, will you barter a trade for my stock for your well-feeling ($); my stock for your evening plans ($$); my stock for your fortune ($$$); my stock for your pride ($$$$); my stock for your stock which goes up with me under your belt.
($ is not S.)
The female chicken is a hen, otherwise known as the domesticated fowl.
The flesh and skins eaten of fowls: poultry.
The value prized the same among poultry of various species: meat.
(Remember: meta = meat = mate)
The root of poultry harks back to Middle English to Old French and both from Latin: pullus.
Deliver us from stagnation. Be our hope, birth us forwards, use your potential.
The royal we replaces the personal, individual, singular I.
Make a sacrifice. Be the martyr. Exemplify yourself.
"Living poultry" would be either oxymoronic or morbidly foretelling to say, like "kicking fetus" or "dead newborn."
In the fetal stages, a gestating human female will have between 6 and 7 million eggs in fetu. By puberty only 300,000 are estimated to have survived. (And why? Who were the ones forgotten, sloughed off? The burial mound is dug too deep beneath the surface.) A grown living woman will ovulate only 350 eggs in her lifetime. Approx.
A grown living woman / A carton of hen's eggs = 29.166666666666667
A grown living woman would produce the same amount as 29.2 cartons of eggs.
Fowl used as slang can imply a subject being cowardly, inexperienced, young, petty, or unnecessary. And: "especially a young girl."
In one day I eat 4 eggs.
In one week I eat 2.33 cartons of eggs.
In one month I eat 10 dozens of eggs.
In 87.5 days I have eaten 29.2 cartons of eggs, 350 individual eggs.
In 2.92 months I have eaten 350 eggs.
In 34% of 1 year I have eaten my ancestral potential measured in domestic fowls.
Since hitting puberty I have cyclically consumed my forwards genealogy 49.32 times.
The atrophy of cells begins and ends with each of themselves. The human is the atom's way of knowing what an atom is. Adam is the madman, Alpha calling Aleph saying the fact is what we think is fiction. Through autophagy the cell is reborn by the necessity of widespread death within its primary foundation, the structures which we've offered in nominal sacrifice to the female matronymic by calling these necessary dead cell structures organelles.