I have written more poetry.

[exmortalfucktoy]

These took me all of this afternoon. I was inspired by the emotion in me - the emotion that comes from my sensitive, artistic nature; and by a beautiful memory of a very special winter's day.

My heart
by Claude

What is my heart?
Is it just a womb for sorrow?
Or is it just a tomb for anguish?
Why does it beat?
Does it beat out of love?
Or does it beat out of anger?
What is it made of?
It is just a weird muscular red thing?
Why does it ache?
Is it because someone has ripped it out, torn it apart, stepped on it?
Or it is it heartburn?
My heart is many things
All of them belong to you.

Winter Day
by Claude

O! Winter! Winter!
You are cold, and frosty, like his soul
I step on a twig, a cold frozen twig
It breaks, like my heart.
mY sOuL iS tHe DeEpEsT aBySs
steeped in aching, exquisite sorrow
it is darkened, flashing lights!
candy, candy on a fairground!
On a winter's day, I chained you to my desk
A Led Zeppelin song played in the distance
You left me.
My veins were rivers of sadness
I tore them open! And like a vampyre
I fed on their pain.

--

I hope you liked them. And yet I still cannot suppress my creativity.

I will dance.