My heart beats aren’t instrumental .
They’re painful .
And there’s no rhythm to remedy
the wreck that I am .
Every lub-dub is an alarm clock
waking me up to my reality.
A reminder that I’m still
broken .
That I’m still inhaling what kills me .

I don’t like being broken .
To be deconstructed and made into metaphors .
To be compared to the pretty things I simply can’t be for myself .
To sound like the waves of the oceans but exist only as a ripple in a random puddle .
To look like an early bloomer in a field of sunflowers but exist only as a dead seed .
But listen to me world , I may be **** .
I may be destruction bound to plead for nothing but attention .
I am bountiful in my presence yet lack so much affection .
I spread . Fields and fields of disregard .
I am unwanted . I am undesired . A penniless card .

But I am something .
And some things are beautiful.

My body was once a
TEMPLE.
Semantic memories fade like
MISCONSTRUCTED.
sentences
Too many commas
Too many expressions
PAUSED.
Yet they go on and on

Full stops where
EMPTY.
promises should have been
Upper case convictions for lower case hearts
Filling gaps and leaving no space to breathe
CONFINED.
by suffocating vocabularies
UNFORGIVABLE.
utterances lingering on.

My body was once a temple .
My body was once bold .

Sifted blends of bitter beauty
Removing fabricated purities of divine roots
Infertile seeds moulded into concoctions
Of casketed cruelties
Motions melting into stagnant figures .
Outnumbered by the numbness of silence .