Who says we'll have hearts next time?
I want a metronome
stuck in my chest to keep the rhythm
and the metal will
remind me of the dangers of feeling
whenever it swings
around madly at all of the intruders.
Then they'll jump away
for a quick inspection of their bruises
before leaving me
for someone with flesh-type organs.

07/05/2007

Posted on 07/06/2007
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