Thump Thump
My pulse does speak
Thump Thump
What do I seek
Angelic in my eyes
I begin to realize
I've been ostracized
I verify
To what I identify
Stupefies
My mind
As I try to find
My place

Sometimes I'm disgusted
By my face

Sometimes I cry out
In to space

Sometimes I want to win
The race
Or
Hang my head
In eternal shame

And all the while

Thump thump
My heart feels weak
Thump thump
My pulse does speak

I thought it was
Mine heart
Beating in mine chest;
Yet found out
It was mine Queen's beat
As mine and her's
We're the same

Pulsing in melodic rhythm.......



©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley Filipino rose

I want so badly to feel
not just know
the life living within me.

Cells of my heart,
what makes you stay
and stick
and love
in such efficient harmony?
What are the series of
coincidences
constructed into miracles
by some invisible hand
to let you be?
What are you, how are you?
To drop and fall into one -
pulse-
compelling me, luring me
to breathe, breathe
even under the anaesthetic of sleep.

I crave to know
how my body cups my soul
in a mirrored glass and not
a casket
or cage, if I wish.

And why the soul cries
even so,
so

I speak
to the ever and ever lying beyond the sky.
I ask

Please?

Dreams break and lines break
but don't let
my heart break

into me.
It is living.

And I don't yet know
what that means.

Amidst a melancholy darkness, all is silent, all is still. Mimicking the nature of my soul at this precise instant...

A river flows within me dancing to the beat of a lonesome drum, waltzing me into a million realms of true disbelief where my thoughts linger eternally. I play the role of a mere onlooker to the sheer terror that ensues within the darkest chasms of my imagination...

Despite the sonnet of insanity playing alongside my unconsciousness, a drum still calls, a sweet psithurism flows through the branches of memory and a serpentine red river continues to flow mortally like clockwork...

Salty drops of rain embrace the names engraved in stone as beautifully decorated couples dance atop their ancient beds.

You see, their rivers stopped flowing at the final beat of their fateful drums, imprisoning them to a non-existent world where memories are no longer created. For now, they're dancing; while they await the final judgement.

A holy holy flash of light strikes the center of my still pounding drum, all the wine has been drunk and the last cigarette smoked, rivers are a flowin'. I awaken breathless, to an empty, white chamber. I know I am home. Without a pulse.

-Garth Lebowski

It burns your joints
A silence, so loud, it ricochets off the walls in your mind
It is not a deafening silence
It is the kind that makes your ears ring
A quickening of the pulse
Invasive to the mind, like a dog's bark at 5:30 pm on a chilling December night
Your soul is screaming
Your toes are purple when you look down at them in the shower
It's all surrounding you
Pressing your arms to your sides as water runs over your mouth
Your pulse thuds in your ears so loud
It is equivalent to a locomotive train
It burns your joints

Once I loved a man
who crushed my words between his
fingers.
I never told him that I cried for three weeks straight,
and that to this day
I still can't say his name.
It was the first time I truly felt the pain of empty sentences.
It was the first time I ever wanted to see my pulse from the inside.

Once I loved a man
that chose his ****** over reason.
Said the world was too bitter
and he was always afraid.
I dropped a dime inside his mind,
but it only sank the boat.
He still sleeps inside my walls.
Today I thought I saw his corpse sitting in my bath tub,
but I think this time it's just the oxy kicking in.
I keep a blood stained shirt inside my pillow case,
and I don't know if it's good or bad
that the blood isn't mine,
or if it's just embarrassing to say
I will never stop loving him.

I loved a man that never hurt me,
but still I ended up in shards beneath the ocean.
He doesn't know about the mess I made upon my sheets,
because I couldn't shake the feeling
of his footsteps on my veins,
and I couldn't bare
to lift my head above the water.

I first noticed my abnormal heartbeat
in Duluth, Minnesota.
Standing across the canal from you
separated by water
and the waves waves waves.
I still swear to this day
that it was your breath I heard
mingling with the hush of water.
The next time I notice my heart
we’re at the hospital.
You tell me to uncross my ankles
and hold out my wrist
your thumb brushing over the more delicate part of its skin
and your stethoscope cold on my throat.
It’s only a
one-two-three
four
before you’re pulling away
my pulse going with you.
I don’t care if I have to live with arrhythmia
live with the pills and the appointments
and the lack of a steady thump thump thump
in my chest.
Just the ghost of the feel
of your thumb on my pulse point
on my wrist
on my neck
curving behind my ear
and my hand on your heart
with your thump thump thump,
will keep my blood flowing.
I’m a girl with a broken heart
and I’m in love with a cardiologist.