090208

Dear Mother,
I need a heart that's tough
a heart that's not so open
and whimsically asking for it.

For Mother,
my heart burns and burns and burns
when there isn't any need.
My heart yearns and yearns and yearns

for the pull of a sweet song
begs for the touch of a romance
and the shockwaves, shockwaves, shockwaves,
leave a heart in weak quivers.

Mother,
I need a heart of iron
cast for all eternity
strong enough to scatter violent, scatter violent, scatter
down all those flights of stairs.

Down all those flights of stairs.
Down all those flights of stairs.
Down all those flights of stairs
and just dust off at the bottom.
And just dust off at the bottom.

But Mother,
is it any better to have a heart
to have a heart that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds
even if it bleeds me cold and pale-
than a heart so shackled
so cast in shielding
that its ventricles,
that its ventricles are useless?
Useless. Useless. Useless. Useless.

That its ventricles won't even pump life?