keep your doors closed
I am perpetually awake in a state of heart-break.
Headache–natures of wastes of -other- mental spaces
truly manifested, physically.
Proved by science: biology.
Why does it feel like a fist is pummeling me
in an abstracted location
painted red in connotation: a perfect
rosy, St. Valentine’s target…..
It is disgusting. It is nothing
but another bloody organ,
smothered and dripping in ridiculous, romantic
Liver, cochlea, lungs, heart, esophagus:
why is there something
No one gets it.
you throw a brick through my ribs
like a shop window, shattering,
and the shards of the bones break my heart
(the contents of the store within).
You fucking vandal, it’s vandalism!
It’s a bloody
every night beginning around 10pm.
Then everyone goes to bed
(on me). Leaving no one left
It’s not really broken: to Hell
with that drama.
No one gets why the ache radiates from that
that we feel that heavy, crushing, breaking,
pain reign from that non-heart-shaped
we try to solve some attributes of
we don’t quite grasp the brain;
yes, synapses explain some things
but where do -we- come in
Our all-encompassing “identities.”
Why are our thoughts in our minds/
our minds in our brains?
Our love in our hearts?
Goddamn nomenclature identity.
I once woke up
Have you ever been awakened by
surrounded by the incubus (or the succubus)?
Well, that was this.
Everyone I knew was turned into
an incubus (you know, in their shadow suit
that doppelgänger shit), and I
“The situation fit”—> blame shift
Hahaahaaa! People in their identity suits
can be such classic pieces of shit.
Thoughts based on nothing,
words thin as grit.
“Trust me,” you say.
It makes me.
Then you do the Death-Sway.
Am I surprised?
Identities make people insane.
But every night around 10 pm it begins
again; because of some
stupid, ridiculous, opening.
A tear in the cosmic seam in the shirt-lining.
Then all that stuffing to keep us comfy and soft
starts spilling out
the opened tears at one another.
People only apply their personal short-comings
to each other
to foist the burden on the other…..
Like, “Hey! I forgot the keys to my car-box!”
And I was here,
I “distracted” you.
Of course you are not just a distracted-self
Scape-goating another self.
And that is such a tiny thing to shove unto another.
No one cares: about any of this
minimal detraction we’re doing.
ESPECIALLY the reckless perpetrators of distraction.
It only matters if it enriches.
Everything else just robs and ravages.
Looking for a host to suck on…..
copyright: C. Ward 2016