"bicuspid" poems
Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava.
From the Vena Cava to the Right Atrium.
From the Right Atrium through the Tricuspid valves.
Through the Tricuspid valves to the Right Ventricle.
Up the Pulmonary Artery.
Through the semi-luner valves.
Out the pulmonary artery.
To the lungs.
Blood becomes Oxygenated
Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs to the left side of the heart through the Pulmonary Vein.
From the Pulmonary Vein to the Left Atrium.
From the Left Atrium through the Bicuspid valves.
Through the Bicuspid valves to the Left Ventricle.
Up the Aorta.
Through the semi-luner valves.
Out the Aorta.
Oxygenated blood is sent around the body.
Blood becomes Deoxygenated
Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava........
SO If you tell me your heart is "literally broken" just don't.
It isn't broken.
It just hurts.
It's just feels horrible.
Painful.
A feeling that hurts you and feels like your heart hurts so much that it's actually broken.
But your heart doesn't actually hurt.
It's just a feeling.
The cycle stills goes on.
It is still functioning.
So, next time you feel your "heart breaking" and literally being "torn apart",
Remember...
Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava.
From the Vena Cava to the Right Atrium.
From the Right Atrium through the Tricuspid valves.
Through the Tricuspid valves to the Right Ventricle.
Up the Pulmonary Artery.
Through the semi-luner valves.
Out the pulmonary artery.
To the lungs.
Blood becomes Oxygenated
Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs to the left side of the heart through the Pulmonary Vein.
From the Pulmonary Vein to the Left Atrium.
From the Left Atrium through the Bicuspid valves.
Through the Bicuspid valves to the Left Ventricle.
Up the Aorta.
Through the semi-luner valves.
Out the Aorta.
Oxygenated blood is sent around the body.
Blood becomes Deoxygenated
Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava.............
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
I kneel before you though you are no God
I give you my shame, lonliness, hopelessness and pain
You take it all with no argument, no hesitation and no judgement
When I kneel before you I feel the world staring down upon me; disappointed and accusitory
What would they say if they saw me in these moments?
The world, friends, family.......what would they say?
I can't stop spending time with you though I have tried
Unfortunately, it only takes a thought
It use to be harder to give it all to you
Forcing myself to bare those things to you.........it use to be so hard
Now it is easy! And I hate myself for it.
To keep myself sane, to keep it all inside, I run my tongue across my gums to feel the missing molars, the hole in the bicuspid, the degraded bicuspid and think in my head......
"Fight the urge. Fight the urge. Fight the urge to kneel and purge."
I go silent. I go numb.
I beat it, I hope, at least for today
But, I see you and feel the need to give it all to you
And in that moment I am beautiful, or, at least I hope to be
I made the mistake of listening to society
They told me to be the way they dictate on tv, in magazines, on billboards, and bus signs and newspapers and the radio
I tried because they said it wasn't ok to be me
To just be me
I wasn't enough
Why can't I be enough?
Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts! It's too easy!
I kneel before you though you are no God
I give you my shame, lonliness, hopelessness and pain
You take it all with no arguments no hesitation and no judgement
"Fight the urge. Fight the urge. Fight the urge to kneel and purge."
FLUSH!!!!!!!
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
I'm ruptured whole and am considered
inadequate
as my
amygdala slides through the trachea drops to my ventricles falls through the aorta plunges to my diaphragm hits the esophagus crashes to my phalanges. There is no hope.
May I hold something over your cranium?
May I remind you of your neuron imbalance? And yet
you sit and
watch as
my septum separates from the left atrium from the right ventricle from the bicuspid from the tricuspid from the pulmonary semi-lunar valve.
I love you. (Stupid cerebral cortex.)
I love you. (Imprudent Broca's area.)
I love you. (Hopeless frontal lobe.)
I love your nonfunctional mind and functional soul and
Well
this is all a metaphor for unrequited love.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
He was chomping on a dog
a chili dog to be exact
when he heard a crunch
and felt a pain that seemed
unusual to his lunch
So with all the grace
that he could muster
he spit out all the dog
and the chili and the mustard
then smiled a toothless grin
when in the chili he could see
a bicuspid mixed therein
He had been waiting for this day
to the point where almost all
his nerves had frayed and
more than all his hair had grayed
But now he knew for certain
there would be no final curtain
for at least another act
because his bicuspid
had given way
to his third set of teeth
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Predilection to: f
tooth between teeth - e
without compunction - e
pearly white - l
welcome mat
a semblance of home
so I
drug
grip
tug
twist
incisor
cuspid
bicuspid
a lovely mouthful
tonight
to my
merriment
you bleed
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
You come from a line of pleading
heavy enough to slam the door, dampen the folds of flannel sheets or
a furrowed brow.
'More' I hear your glossy eyes breathe.
They've been softened by endless searching
Scan after scan.
We've made a game of it.
We readily laugh at our preposterousness
believing love could grasp and stay, the last shriveled grape on a branch
smaller than the others.
Sweeter, too.
What we have precedes us, I say
Grimacing since I don't know exactly what I mean by that.
Once, in a dream, I walked down a corridor adorned with empty picture frames. It ended at a desert clearing, laced beneath a silver sky.
My ears alerted me first: before me lay a jumping cactus before me, embracing a teary coyote softly whimpering a prayer as thousands of needles sunk more securely into its fur.
I laughed and still couldn't tell you why.
I held my hand more closely to the shadowy breath, every release a firm match to my own.
Either to help it or endure its hateful bicuspid sink into my rigid flesh
I waved my hand faithfully before the dog.
Diverted, the stab of the plant wounded me instead.
I awoke, floating down a gushing claret river
The blood shimmering beneath me was my own.
My jaw split slightly enough to taste the salty tang of my demise.
Looking down, the once-pale tunic I wore was stained, candied.
I open my eyes to see your patient breath escape, confirming the truthful slumber I pray for you.
I expect you are told to say the most, so I tell myself through your waiting ear:
Love is irrevocably illusory.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
I sighed.
I only wanted to sit down and resign myself to never thinking twice about you again,
You've buried yourself in my rib cage, rooted yourself in the compacted red clay surrounding my bicuspid valve.
(People like you always need a challenge, digging around with blemished, infectious hands)
You brought back weathered leather filled with emotions ancient playwrights would be horrified by
Especially alone, in the dark
Making trip after trip, til there were trenches through my soft tissue, (preparing for a stand off; prepping for a war)
Do you know what you're capable of?
How the only moments of silence I have are standing in the hot steam of a barely resolved shower, patting my face dry while exhaling the parts of me that crave your tongue?
How thoughts of you are treacherous mountain hikes into a no man's land?
How your name on my lips is a torrential downpour of what ifs.
Cigarette stoops used to be my safe haven,
now they are shoddy trips through chicken-wire memories,
that claw through my skin and seep gray flesh through exposed punctures.
(In the mirror, my scars talk to one another, gossiping about your bad boy image)
People ask "who is this"- "I need to know what this is about"
but I have no room for apologies about the things that I will never know
I never knew you.
Only the mysterious road maps you left on my body while heading South for the winter.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC