the fleeing ventricles

five-gallon bucket condensation ring-stains,
with an aged oak barrel grenache hue, coats
the icy cold grey bedroom cement floor.
squiggly yellow droplets blemish the corners
of the off-white ceiling just above the singed
smoky colored asbestos saturated wallpaper.
my pale beading bare torso rocks back ‘n forth
in rhythm with the fierce beats of my encased
hollow muscular blood pumping organ;
not from J. Cole, Drake, or Kendrick Lamar’s
verses on this DJK album, but because my heart
misses you so dearly, it’s literally trying to burst
through my chest; hence, the reason for the buckets:
traps for my bleeding crying racing heart
in this doorless zero gravity room where
love is the only thing that carries any weight.

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Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

3 thoughts on “the fleeing ventricles”

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