My heart has bled billions of times
and what do I remember?
Flashes, rushes, flaring anger rising in my chest;
nothing in the infinite recollection of life.
And when I lay in the dark and the music blasts in my ears
The past and present attempt to fuse together, but
the pieces do not fit.
Surreal; who I was and who I am,
what I cried for and what I live for,
the impossibilities that flourished into reality
and the possibilities that withered to dust.
Do you remember the Surreal?
My heart overflowed with adrenaline
and it still does.
It is precious:
what you did and who you were.
You will be precious
when you become who you once were
and become one
Once again
with the Surreal.
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From a Lonely Heart
PoetryYou are holding my heart. Peel off a layer - there lays an enigmatic labyrinth. Dig deeper, and you will come face to face with a mystifying puzzle. The thing with a heart is that it does not only go deeper. It is such a dynamic complexity that it...
