I went into the backyard and dug two
shallow graves; one for you and one for me.
I sure as hell don’t want to be with you
in a dirt hole for all eternity
if I fuck this up. When I hate something
it gives me focus. I’m a stumblebum.
Focus isn’t my strength. O heart, bleeding
won’t end a thing, but it’s a start. Seldom
do we get new starts. Heart, foolish heart,
you have been cut and pierced, starved and eaten.
You are a sad, little thing when you bleed.
I don’t care about revenge, the sweetheart
who broke me, anyone. Heart, you’re the one
I want dead; the last thing, right now, I need.
memories of my ghost sista 
You’re not Anthony Sowell in disguise, are you? Huzband told me about those Imperial Street murders in Cleveland…go ahead and bury stuff, but not your heart. It seems to be a good one.
On my Way…
Heehee, no, as far as I know the whole “doing damage to others” impulse dried up around the time puberty set in (believe me, working with dementia patients as a nurse really does require the sort of kindness I would suspect serial killers are without, or at least I hope so). Either way, thanks for reading! =)
Good to see my comment went through. Huzband somehow erased it on my view. So kidding though…you seem to have too much compassion and depth of thought to be psychpathic, but then most psychopathic people are good at appearances. Now I’m going sideways again – I’m out of here. Cheers !
On my Way…
Yay for sideways! Probably the best way to look at the world. I always figured the day I stop being interested in the world around me is when the real psychosis sets in. Until then, it’s just having fun rhyming words.
Yeah…Tony. You can run, but you can’t hide. You’re too much of a wired in artist to fill your yard, basement, and the walls of your home with the bodies of young women…or are you? Like the wiffey say, be careful with that heart.
Later…
oh, young women, young boys, any port in a storm. no … actually it was the heart i wanted to bury in the backyard, anything else would fall into the level of snuff-porn and why put that kind of energy out into the world? (hollywood does that for us, or at least so i am told). but thank you, regardless.
Great…think I eliminated the wife’s post…it was amusing, too. A little something about Anthony Sowell, the Imperial Street killer from Cleveland who had his yard, basement and walls full of bodies. I think her final words were, to bury what you wanted, but be careful with your heart. It was better than that, but I jacked it all up.
Later…
This is the third time I’ve tried leaving a comment, and erased the wiffy’s while I been dicking it up. Hers was good, too…something about Anthony Sowell…the Imperial Street killer from Cleveland and his yard, basement, and walls full of concealed bodies. Think the final words were, “…bury what you have to, but be careful with your heart.” She’s too sweet…makes up for me.
Later…