The end is somehow the beginning, they say
Heartbreak is not linear.
( in the medical sense, at least).
your scriptures are written in the reddened
line of your EKG scroll.
sometimes the only remedy is some eggless brownie batter
and others, the only remedy is a set of paddles and
two-hundred and fifty joules;
Clear, clear, how can it all possibly be clear?
When your cords are filled with yellow pus?
This was all your fault, you know?
When they open up your heaving cavity,
it will surely explode.
But why, why you wandering gypsy soul
whose eyes are streaked with dried angered
Why did you choose this way to go?
Maybe you will be reincarnated
Into a butterfly,
a hap-pee little butterfly.
With each flap of your wings,
a life that will never be yours
passes you by.