This is my heart on paper

Waiting to bite my readers

Ready to fight my critics

No, it's not a pink shape

It's a red, throbbing organ

It doesn't feel things for me

But, it circulates signals from my brain-

The matter occupying my cranial cavity

You know, the stuff that makes pain on and under my skin when my worried nerves collide with something outside-

From what I can tell, my heart just pumps the pain along

Even though it takes on collateral damage from its charge

Heartache!

Speaking of charge, I'm surprised that the impulses

-In the matter filling my cranial cavity-

Are still traveling, bouncing around in there

In the belly of the beast that is my troubled head

Speaking of bellies,

Mine spasms, full of catalysts meant to break things down

Until slow is fast and high is low

Breaking down, what a concept!

The deterioration of my connective tissue seems to have it covered

Because I feel as though I'm falling apart

Trying to create order, the hammers in my ears nail my thoughts down

The pounding causes my eyes to develop a twitch

When the twitching is too much,

My cells sigh and explode in a demostration of combustion

The heat given off melts my frozen joints

I test my jaws until they become sharpened points:

This is my heart on paper,

Waiting to bite my readers