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FEBRUARY 16TH, 1998, HEART
Dreams of a purple war, bombs dropping down along the land like wrecking balls, steel rain shattering the sides of buildings, crumbling them to honeycomb, the people inside, there are people inside, their companion animals and their potplants, my night mind empowers itself with every old war movie cliché, the air is still with chemical and biological warfare, there are people attacking me, each time I go to bed it's like someone sees a lump beneath the blankets and sheets and thinking it was a human, starts battering it with baseball bats the whole night, or however long a dream lasts, they batter until the stuffing falls out, and I am watching them from the corner of the room making the discovery, 'aahhh so you're the people who keep doing this to me, why don't you let me sleep?, I deserve it,' but I deserve nothing, I wake up with a pin in my chest that stretches across it and pulls like a band, my heart feels like rotten meat that has turned green, or pounded black and blue, I have fallen into the sewerage and swallowed too much shit on my long swim to shore, I was brought here to be pulped, yet my ambition is to get stronger, I feel like I am fighting against what was all created for me, someone from my childhood was holding out the prison factory clothes and saying, 'here, these are for you,' it would have been easy to slip straight into them, they were the perfect fit and if I had stepped into them they would have always been the perfect fit, but instead I'm always breaking out and no clothes fit, and nothing is perfect, the heart feels like a mango, it becomes heavier inside, sometimes it feels broken, other times it feels rotten and I must shower regularly, at the moment I feel like, hey, take my heart out and put a new one in, but it's only been there thirty two years, surely it can last longer than that, anyway, I don't want heart, and I never want the heart of anything else inside me. |
