The Heat

by muags

Language such a crude tool
for describing the body's 
bent song
Where does the heat in my
heart originate
Where does the firewood come 
from and who is chopping it
My lungs
two caverns that
I insist on choking with
smoke and smoke and smoke
All of the worlds noise
bouncing off my pupils
unrelenting and I let a lot of 
it in All these thoughts laid
out like a map written in some
alien script And as I
go along some words are
revealed to me
the glass on the compass becomes
less foggy Torn between two
one production
the other 
a sorry but glorious destruction
but I know neither is right and 
like a retired magician
my tricks are becoming harder
to fake
so I go on
shoes velcroed tight
and my perception of time
constantly swinging from vine
to vine
where does the heat come from?
The thought of having a 
soul is comforting
but comfort doesn't make 
for an interesting life.