It beats for myself, It should. For anyone else, It shouldn't. It ignores my every command, my every needs for its every wants. It longs for that certain something to explode, stretch out in the vast night sky fringed by luminous grains of hope, spelling it out, assuring It what It has been missing, It has actually found. It is temperamental, undecided, frivolous but this is my heart we are talking about. It is dazed and confused because my mind tells It to. And this is in knots because I make it so. So excuse me while I sit in the corner, eating It out.
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