204300
I wish you could hear the vacuum of my heart, a grinding thump like listening to the ocean and seeing it in its heavenly force crash down on you and to realize that with everyone in the room, you are alone in the world.
The circular reasoning is that of an insane asylum, the more of the world you surround yourself with, a crowded subway car of non-distinct voices and the only thing you are really listening out for is someone to call your name in a see of people with no names. You are alone.
The last beat that your heart will ever make will be a distinct sound that no one else will hear but you and some people see death every day like a non-intentional dinner that they gladly sit down to. The dinner conversation is always lost dreams and things that could have been, could have seen, could have felt, what they world took away and what they let it take away.
You could walk up to this person, look them in the eye -- reach in their chest and pull their hearts from them. It was underutilized anyway.
If you focus inward, you can hear that heart, you can let the thunder roll from it and into the world. You don't need to break free, you need to break out, put a spout and let it bruise your second and third rib cage and give the universe everything it asked of you.
Let the rhythym pinch ears like microphoes and are out of sync, so be out of sync and let the world hear the poets heart. Stop stopping and start poppin off. They won't be able to handle you but they truth is you wont be able to handle yourself.
