I’d like to find the words
to cut right through the muck,
but when it comes to you
you know that I’m just stuck,

I ready up the blades
and soap clean my hands,
to work toward the heart
no matter where it lands—

All the things—
We said—
Will forever be dead—

But I’ll hold on—
Instead—
You’ll always live inside my head.

My garden grows only beetroot,
They're all shaped like little hearts.
All got stolen by someone cute,
Outmanoeuvred all the guards.

But it is fine, she can keep them,
She can take all the heartbeet.
Her smile is like a little gem,
Just for her does my heart beat!

A heart so precious,
Its beat—relentless and ambitious.
There are no words to describe
How it lights up even the darkest of worlds.
I sit all day and think how I can make my rhythm match yours,
Like waves that crash against the shores.
I chase the love my heart implores;
Mine will only stop when yours ceases to beat,
Forever tied to your breathtaking heartbeat.

Overcast days
Grey skies
Skipping to my beats
Emotional high
Let it out
Breathe it in
Universal sigh
Back on track
Found my pace
Settle in
It’s about to begin
Beautiful Day
My my
Feeling alright
Nothing to do
Nothing standing in my way
Walking straight ahead
With my vibe
Immune to time
Flip the switch on my kit
Pull rhythm and rhymes
From the sky
Written by:
Timothy Charles Carter

It felt weird
when my heart
left its type
and fell
for a whole
new font
that read
differently

Rhythms,
Unashamed sounds,
Playing to the beat of their internal drum,
No fear of questioning,
But unleashing originality as it comes.

This soft heart I say, can feel like a curse,  
For all the times it soaks up the hate, oh, how it hurts!
As with each tear that I shed,  
It all feels heavy, heavy like lead,  
Till the floodgates burst forth in a verse.  

And I must tell you,

A soft heart is like a sponge, it takes every cut,  
An open heart: a vibrant marketplace; so never to shut!
But it was once vibrant and bright,  
Now it feels so dilapidated from fight,  
Yet still it beats on, as a true work of art.

I go to the doctors
just for a checkup,
she puts her hand on my chest to feel my heart.
And at that moment i wonder if she can feel how its broken into a million pieces.
I wonder if she can feel with each thump, another piece breaking off.
I wonder if she can feel all the denial, all the workers in my brain trying to mend those pieces together,
but then it all breaking apart again.