My heart sometimes thumps in a normal pace.
Then confuses itself and loses rhythm.
My chest flutters, my breathing shutters
But I keep living.

What does it mean to exist?
Well quite literally, that your heart persists.

Between the beats, there's a moment of quiet.
Stillness that precedes another thump
or serves as an epilogue to the last one.

I am painfully aware of my heartbeat.
So much that it hurts.
I don't want exercise to speed it up and use up my remaining beats
Nor alcohol to plummet it to a state where it beats no more.

But then I lay in bed at night and listen to the soft thumps in my chest.
And it reminds me of its purpose.
Whether or not it unexpectedly stops one day
or beats till it can't beat any more

I'll do my best to love and nurture this erratic, fickle heart of mine.

They cut, crush, cauterize or tie off the eyestalk
of female prawns and shrimp
to stimulate faster reproduction
   usually without anesthesia

I often wonder the complexity of pain felt
when they flail about helplessly
disoriented and dissevered

Do they     rejoice?  

For their life has a gained greater purpose.

Or do they mourn what once was?

For the following generations will be disease-prone and decline
and suffer
and decay.

Nothing we haven't already done to ourselves admittedly.
We might actually be the only organisms
unable to cohabitate with each other.

We seek God to fear our actions
that are preached as sins.
It keeps us good and honest
Yet our empires and civilizations repeatedly fall
generation after generation
as power is granted to our rulers that partake in
Eyestalk Ablation.

For we worship them over God himself.
It's a good thing we were getting tired of God anyways.

my grandmother unscrewed
the door to my room
and removed the carpet from my floor

in the winter months
my toes went white and my fingertips hued blue
my lips marred red as i looked to the ceiling
and pondered my importance in this reality

i went to sleep that night and had a dream
i thought was so clever
in this dream i said: 'Roses are sometimes red, and violets
are rarely blue'.
Somebody hand me a Pulitzer this instant

in hindsight, my dreams were foretelling
as i awoke in the hospital with a headache
and diagnosis of hypothermia
the nurses and social workers sat in chairs
with my grandmother beside them  

i closed my eyes and visualized all the
yellow roses and white violets often overlooked
and with a few smiles
and words of affirmations to the guests judging my performance
I received a standing ovation
of vibrant violets and beautiful deep reds thrown on stage
and returned to the Tiled Floors.

when I was 18
i was invincible

i didn’t care about people
so didn't fault them for not
caring about me

i turned 22
my invincibility strengthened
through the connections and admiration
i received

then i met you

and i exchanged my invincibility for vulnerability

do we see each other as friends, lovers
or something more?

it doesn't matter
as the Leap Year came and set the precedent
for a violent new year

it seems i’m not invincible any more.