If our heart is the strongest muscle
Then why does it break so easily?
The strongest ***** has open wounds.
It's dripping with pain.
It's broken and bruised.
Our acidic love is burning.
Through the flesh
Im screaming in pain
Every scar of the past
Is ripping with regret
There's poison in my veins.
The antidotes missing
My hearts beating the blame
And pumping out shame
Is just another
Ruthlessly destroying my heart
it's an *****
that we can do without
but most of us
have it still hanging about
were you to look
a bit left of the liver
you'd see this *****'s
plum red sliver
if it gets torn
much blood will spill
from its sack's
by golly Francis
verbalizes a lot
ranting on the spot
glean and keen
rhyme with it
that is a hint
to its kind of kit
Coming from the mouth of hate
A deep green ink tumbling out
With those **** red petals
Having been stained by the blood
Spilling into vile words of suffering
Twisting this way and that
As if alive- slithering into place
I would plunge the dagger
Deeper still into your chest
Turning it and slicing on either side
Until I could reach in and pluck
That beating ***** from the cavity
And hold it in my hand, so tenderly
Just as I always have been with you
And then crush it in between palms
Applying more pressure until
The pain is unbearable and then
Maybe you will have felt
What you've put me through
The line about the petals is reminiscent of my poem "Unrequited Love" and both pieces are about the same person.
This one came from the feelings of when you *****- the rising bile, acrid smell, acidic bite, the retching, and the tears.
My heartbeat's gone all wrong
A stuttering flutter of rhythmic butter
Something this *****'s been slipping on
And what is the tempo marking, dear?
Quarter note equals freakin’ infinity
It's come to my attention, I fear
I never breathed a note this long
Beneath the skin,
it is all so ****
the bones and flesh
blood flowing around
all the *****
hard to keep
Pills fill the stomach
and there goes down.
The beauty is seen with eyes
the Outer body is
much better than what
I hide inside.
Alight my candles within;
I am a dark old church with an old *****.
Peeling splinters of old wood,
Echoing haunts where old stood.
Can you hear a monotonous symphony?
No, listen closely, I’m resonating polyphony
That I could and can still play.
When you alight my candles within
The chamber illuminates and warms your skin.
The once faded paintings dance colorfully
And I recite for you my heart.
Because when I am aglow,
Brightened with the love I need to start,
Nothing could quiet my song
But being alone once more in the dark.
I don’t know why my usual imagery for these things are dark empty rooms with musical instruments, but at least it’s a bit more light (get it) and positive than the last.