taste of ground

when they say listen to your heart what do they mean. the pulping fusion of mess in your chest that sometimes constricts and beats an odd beat. i am having trouble recognizing the emotions that spill, the ways i turn around and around, never stand still. a day at a time. simplicity unwinds and i am staring at what i want. slim stem and winding whisps, death keeps me good at this, it’s a picture of painful memories. a girl that i dont even know, i dont rely on mirrors anymore, the reflection seem lies and dreamlike. i feel my face and skin leaks down my fingertips. my mind my power tool that rips apart the pretty things that love brings. if i could just be happy with nothing, i’d have everything. grease up these rusted limbs and walk a little, towards a beginning or an ending. my heart says, i dont always want to be leaving behind this trail of bruised and beating. sometime, let me be. just be frail and frantic in the hands of another. down on the floor, i count the types of grime. i wish i could stay there all day, just laying lifeless and breatheless in rapt of something smaller than my own life. selfish. so sure of the silk wrap upon wrap, comfort of a bed sheet and sleep a source of escape. it’s apology that i focus, what words can’t bring, it’s a night thing. surly petals that drape and pump young crimson into a only earth and back again. i want…what my heart wants. to stand still and solid at the edge of a damp cliff, looking down and never fearing the taste of ground.