Have you ever seen
the way a spider
sits so patiently
as it waits
for its next meal?
Or the way
the unsuspecting fly
will lie helplessly
having only its own wings
to blame
as freedom turns into
*feasting

As the morning descends here,
The surroundings come alive,
Birds start chirping sweetly,
Insects play violin of the legs,
Not far away I hear the engine.

The morning makes glorious sounds,
It also brings me back to her memories,
The train I hear moving away so swiftly,
It's the same train I mounted years ago,
The train doesn't wait not for me now.

It chugs away to where I had been,
Almost two years ago to meet her,
On her birthday to feel her close,
To greet her so sweetly & hug her,
She even had kissed a sleeping me.

I wonder how she could just forget,
Sharing the moments so intimate,
Waking me up for an active kiss,
For I'll never forget & move on,
Breath talked in the breathtaking moment.

Through a split lip
red foam,
froghopper froth
fizzing, haemoglobin, half-life
sitting thickly-thick,
on a paving stone.
Looking like Clinton’s cards
think human hearts
are shaped like.

But mine’s an artichoke
a watery phloem thistle core
folded in fronds and furs,
bristles of cowlick baleen,
sailing, ship-lapped bark,
darkness and birdcages.

Mine’s a rigour-mortis pill bug
potato fly, oddball, ***** slug
an ammonite, a butterfly tongue,
a bending toe curled in ecstasy.
Exponential shell chambers and septums
ending alongside everything.

And the guts of my heart
incessantly churn mechanically,
maniacally and obliviously rhythmically
Keeping me malleable
soft,
moving,
un-enveloped by beetle wings.

Just like the platelets
of my hardening spit-heart
are, blackening blood,
amber caught bugs,
clay in mud,
elliptical,
eclipsing.
Nothing

like we think it is.