on this day in 1969, Denton Cooley implemented the first artificial heart
into a human whose nature was slowly failing and falling apart
blood barely pumping under electric skin
fake skin pumping blues under rubber valves and tubes
it kept his breath for
64 hours.

I imagine his family watched the light leave his eyes
and not even love or divine intervention
could beat him back to equilibrium
wires surging through him
your body is not science project
it's a miracle
but I guess it's conditional
because some people see the light too soon
when not even artificial life
can keep you from dying

even with robotic models
clinking clanking
subconscious
pounding veins into submission
keep this miracle alive
revived
it's not cheating Mother Nature
it's not cheating your life
beating pressed against the odds
artificial body
artificial feelings
love
isn't even a feeling
it's a combination of chemicals
connected in your brain
but I wonder if that human felt his rubber heart breaking
when he saw the tears in the eyes of his family
these aren't emotions
imitation life can fake
even though not all of me is here,
I still feel like nothing ever left me
they didn't know
I would leave so soon
64 hours
I could wake up a robot
I could wake up a miracle
either way
I'll be gone in 32 more hours
when a brand new heart
infects my blood
you didn't finish the job
but you held me over
beating on my chest for me
blue blood pumping
but I guess I forgot how to do it on my own
when my own heart should have never even left me

The night as cold as these chains,
Wrist-binding
All along lying,
in my lone bedfold.

The night is as silent
As my ragged breathing
Gradually disappearing
like this candle of late

Rising to eh distant footsteps
Chest anchors with each beat
The metal bolts screeched open
Closed eyes, I breathe free

Numbed, this tired vessel,
To the pain and sorrow felt
For none hurts more
Of death in the hands of fellow men

I saw Temptation
& he stared at me
with his narcotic eyes
blossoming nebulas formed
around his head
& i felt sinful
just staring
back
at him

i felt like
i'd go straight
down
to hell
with just wondering
if his lips
if his mouth
tasted like
the darkest
of coffee

& i don't
even like
coffee

but
i'm willing
to try

While I'm sitting in the sun shine
I can't help but think about the times it would rain
Because you were by my side then
And I wasn't in so much pain

the sweet warm breath on my neck
the scratches on your back
my deep moans of pleasure
and the clenching of the sheets
oh how I love the way you make love to me

they asked
“do you miss him”
and I thought no
i don’t miss him

but i miss the
feel of his skin
on mine and his
hands tracing

each and every inch
of me, burning the
memory of him
into my mind

and the way his
eyes would light up
whenever he saw me
and the way

he’d kiss me to take
away all the pain inside
so when people do
ask me

“do you miss him”
i think about it
and in the end
i know i’ll never

stop  

             missing

                              him.

S.W

I've decided that it pays to be a pessimist
We love deeply, while not ignoring the feeling of our hearts begining to crack
This doesn't mean our hearts end up in any fewer shards
Or are any less impossible to reassemble
But at least we're not surprised when they shatter

The cracks on the sidewalk you like to walk over represent the way you’ve left my mind,
The rain falling down from the sky represent the way I’d fall for you over and over again,
The puddles you splash around in while wearing your red rain boots represent the thoughts I had of ever getting my sanity back,
The movement my guitar strings make to create sound represent the way my stomach felt when I saw your brilliant face,
The airplanes in the sky represent the way you’d make my mind drift away as you held me in your arms,
Everything I see or hear is suddenly a reminder of how messed up you left me,
I’d say you broke my heart but I’m still living, but everything inside me has completely dried up and died.

the walls are tight around you
blameless, insufficient

the inside is a storm of all sorts,
cold and quivering with oblivious benevolence

the outside is warm
and yet my arms itch to curl around
the blameless insufficiency that is so desperately engraved on your skin