6:30 a.m. - September 18, 2011
My Heart Is...
A room whose walls are ordained with razors, knives hang low. The string which holds it all is enlaced with shame. Every piece finely connecting one another to the floor, in which nails are peering through. Like hungry children, they yearn to be fed. These items in this room are all cold and steel but are built out of emotion. It all has purpose...

In the center, floats an open casket waiting for you. Revenge lifts it from the ground, reminding me that it's bowels are empty. Once it closes, the pins and needles I used to walk on, suddenly find their home in whatever may be inside the casket. It's black and chrome, it glitters in the darkest of nights. It has a hole at the bottom in which blood drains into a cup. The contents of the cup are mixed with mirh. Despite being so bitter, it feels sweet in my throat.

Now these steel little demons, lay dormant waiting on you. It's like a venus flytrap. Its my empty void, getting bigger.

Here is a toast to not turning the other cheek and smashing yours instead!