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My Insane Heart

My heart is full
of monsters, ex-girlfriends,
unpaid bills and piano music;
the blood is gone,
I don’t know where,
perhaps pooled
at the feet
of the last woman
in my world.
My heart is broken
into small corporations
and bands of insurgents
dedicated to the memory
of the last kiss
that fell by the way
in the Hollywood Hills;
the body
never found.
My heart is lost
daily, foolishly,
in doubt, maybe,
only purposely,
again, at last,
publicly, insanely;
every second
of every day