Oh I don’t know…

Attention turns me into a blathering fool.
So much flesh around the seed, the core of truth, the self.
Some days I want to tear it to shreds with my bare fingers
so I may cup the bleeding palpitating heart within the palms of my hand
and say, there! That is who you are. Your heart in your hands.
And on others, even a glance cuts like a lance
and it is all I can do to keep my eyes open.

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