All the empty doorways of the lonely hearts

opening

hoping, I will do

more than just, walk-on through

They do it, in the summertime

in their canary-yellow dresses, too sad to sing

bright, but not quite

The girls don’t cheer me up, even when they smile

at me.

I don’t want sympathy. Could it be that romance

is a ridiculous thing? If you go after what you want

you will be disappointed

and tears, don’t stop the lightning

from striking

Maybe, I’m just being a gray cloud right not, but

I’m continually frustrated

until I choose not to be—

that’s called quitting, but I can’t.

So, here’s to winning. To the girls in their multi-colored dresses

who are interesting, but aren’t beautiful. To the women

who can’t get what they want.

To the men, who need to kill their competition

To the dictators, who run-through 3,000 women

and murder 6 million men. To a world that screams and laughs.

I make a toast, to beautiful suffering.

To conversations that go nowhere.

To everybody listening, who don’t care.

Emotions, wane

like the cycles of the moon

Nobody wants to know your pain, because it hurts

and they have had enough.

Basically, suffering, doesn’t mean anything

to a deaf universe.

I talked to a woman who had 25% of her hearing

She answered, every single one of my questions

but the girl, with the V-neck top

and the blonde hair, and the big boobs, ignored 75% of what I said.

She was 23. My friend took her away from me

and got her number.

All is fair, in love and war.

I wonder

about winning

Does it matter?

We get older, until

there is nothing left. People have regrets

I don’t know what I need to do

to avoid that bitter baggage

I’ll declare it “lost luggage”

if I have to

or I won’t declare it at all

at the claim.

Most of us are beaten, until we stop crying out

We do the natural thing, and avoid the stick

I love it.

Nature, is moving towards extinction

it cannot love itself

a light, burns out

going cold

and

consciousness,

only thinks

of itself.

When the heartbeats stop, the lonely hearts

die

and they won’t be lonely, anymore.

2 thoughts on “When Lonely Hearts Stop Beating

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