A Poem about the Heart

Sometimes inspiration for the most obscure forms of prose can strike you in a moment of vulnerability. In those moments, when you’re merely lying on your preferred side waiting for sleep to take you, the words reveal themselves to you against the blackness of your mind. You pull out your phone and open the app to tap away what rolls past the backs of your eyes like credits on a screen.

Herein lies the result of one such moment.

Ailments of the Heart

Within the cavernous 

Reaches of ourselves 

Lies there a solitary beast 

That shudders

And shakes

To that which occurs just beyond its cage.

Though life pours 

From its own suffering,

In its eternal trembling

Pain blooms like flowers in the spring 

Radiating out

Touching everything.

How can an organ numb 

To its neverending grind

Be so touched 

By that which carries no weight?

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