Dead Metaphor

November 17 2005

An inescapable mental torment as the mussitation of that dead metaphor whispers that morbid whisper incessantly...
"You're Heart is Broken..."
And oh how I felt the blow that bellowed the echo of that heart shattering thud throughout my entire body,,, that deep, almost buried sound that shook me from my seat and made me stand to inspect the security of my surroundings.
I knew something wasn't right, yet I tried to convince myself it was nothing. Walking away in denial, while in my chest, that distinct fracture slowly begins to cobweb out as ice covering a puddle splits outward when stepped upon.
Each crack quietly giving birth to another crack, and another, then another, until my heart is covered completely with it's fragility.
Barely pieced together, each blood pulsing pump shakes the surface pieces releasing bits and crumbs into nothingness,,, and I pretend that everything is normal.
But it is not normal...
I should rip the tainted seed from it's shell and bury it amongst the dead,,, without life, without feeling, without .... love...
Alas, how it angers me that I would allow this personal demolition of my emotional body, though I know, demolition is the only resolution to the decay of this dead structure.
Perhaps I enjoy the condemnation... perhaps, every moment spent in rot contends me? 
Why else would I deny each piece that falls away, was ever there to begin with? Why else would I deceive myself so that I could continue the suffering?
... why do I allow myself to suffer?