my_heart_in_everything monadh we all share this it is yours it is my own we all share in this moment the rhythmic cycle of existance all within 010727 ... neverender in jars on sleeves in your hands on the line 020821 ... .-. mostly the ashtray 020822 ... oldephebe beautiful mon 040421 ... marked . 040421 ... pete my heart in everything, my hand in hers, my mind among the stars looking down at my life trodding happily along. 060108 ... flexible and everything in my heart? 060108 ... pSyche that's what happens when hearts shatter. heart shards stuck in everything like shrapnel shards from battle explosives Pieces of my heart in everything and you can't just pluck them out like splinters oh no, not like nasty little wooden splinters they stay where they stick deep in the core of that thing into which they embed themselves a part of self... gone forever 060108 ... oldephebe well..i dont't know can our heart be given BACk to us? can we choose to allow it to be rescusitated and drawn like a magnent back to it's calamity and to it's burnt out house to be recombined? i mean something of the self will still remain, something of it's essence survives the fractal geometric dissemination into the chaotic baptism by fire of love that is inevitably encountered by us, by the heart as it's structure is stretched - its surface pulled ghastly and obscenely out of shape into these unthinkable dimensions as loves tumult, as its great wrought iron fists beat against the drums, the drama, the time and memory and nature and all become this seismic organic upheavel that is the assault of the heart - of what is come to mean the nature of love? this conflict, this subserviance to the scalding purity of the dominace of ones love over feelings of ..god i just don't know i just CAN'T feel resentment and bitterness or hostility - no matter what i encounter from the other, i just stand in it's wake, or i stand in its icy flare and choose to see the honour hidden in heavenly realms, to touch the highest and purest qualtiy of love brings you there, your spirit ascends in the midst of it's suffering, this conflict this surrender this even absolution? no wait for there can BE no absolution from what must be wrung from the human heart, a thousand screaming fire quils, it embeds its signature upon every breath upon every beat - it encodes itself in a kind of fractal algorythic "emergence" kind of architecture that is imprinted, each black note is imprinted upon every cell - which manifests itself in the "irregularities" exhibited upon and by the emotional structure(s) of our pysches - the resulting organic structure - the screaming crystalline hurled from calamitys open sore like a burnt out house, the wound banshee like curdling, oozing into the flattened air - into the austere light - of heart oozing..black spring that darkned gods eye dribbling from the bottom of a smoke choked closet wood branded charred its signet impressed called as if from thunders first howl, wood branded and choked with smoke black tide and drought of wind and set gaping before the black train polished screaming steel and pistons as you are stretched where you stand unthinkingly across the tracks black chasm contorted, you chased the night, this wisp of smoke burning in your soul, haunting, girdling straddling your body and soul all night like a capricious teasing lover leaving the promise of her desolation to hover and frost in the air like the breath of wild horses in winter, like the flare of firelies - to be contorted so abjectly, so fruitlessly so devoutly for a little fugue of death and then there it is, the face came to inhabit the featurelessness of a cloud ... it is YOUR face it is the face that let the Night drink every pious tear every black tear every inconsolate sob dripping into a basket of rotting black berries ... 060109 ... oE disconsolate NOT inconsolate ... 060109 ... violet strangt if i can putmy heart onto everything, i will achieve at least one thng in life. 060726 ... violet strangt i apparently can't type today. 060726 ... birdmad if i put my heart into everything, everything would taste funny 060726 what's it to you? who go blather from