Dagger to a Heart

Go figure your ideaologies, consider fact, reason. Thoughts can wait on this ever whriling world of fancy, where my life is flashing before my eyes, and thought is running my pathetic little mind.
Subarctin dementia and freezing frozen frosty drunks of my favorite alcoholic beverage, and life, love, liberty, and what i love to do, passing before my eyes.
Go figure my drunken wrecked dynamo of phosphorescent brain seeping out my eyes and ears as your urgings to keep me going, try and fail to push it back in.
Radiant thoughts, spiraling cancer, interlocking basket weaves of my jacket holding my arms to my sides, unable to help myself.
Go figure your bored scared self, afraid to be hurt by a young boy who can barely lift a pencil, or barely click the button of the ciggarette encompassed pile of plastic we call a keyboard.
Academics puzzled rump roast burning on a teflon skillet and consequently unable to slide off for fear of what may happen 4 feet below on the floor shrouded in dirt and dog shit, nestled in my bosom, I'll never eat this meat.
Go figure the fact that my mind raker rakes, my rasping breath and totalled skull, under the beaming light of the incandescent bulb that gleams and smiles at my apparent dissatisfaction in the 5 Asprin I just consumed to stop the rock solid aching, and the contemplation temporarily comprised of a brutal suicide including a man with a gun, along in a parking lot, after giving 10 grand to a hooker and telling her to get a real life, and stop acting like a worthless being of human incapability, save the pleasure of a stupid man, like me.
All in attendance at the dance of the blades, skewered bellies and broken faces, tattered clothes, exposed breasts flashing the crowd, and the vision of my ultimate untimely death at the hands of yours truly, a 20 gauge matching shot for shot, my head on the ground, in the midnight flaxen hair.
Go figure my broken heart at what is and what was, what will be, and the churning acid, corruscating brightly, burning my broken heart, cauterizing the odds and ends together, and pumping dried blood to clot the holes and bleed the kidneys, with their sharpened bloodfest, making it a wonder that anything is still alive after the white hot shards of glass rip my flesh, and tear me apart.
Though none of that really happened, feelings still feel the like, as my love dumped me and ignored me, but I still pursued and stalked it with as much vigor and fervor as could be mustered, streamline consonation. And finally, a terrifying site to match the subtle orgy, for I have been to better.
Go figure the moon, the sun, the stars, the life, the death, the bits of chalky graphite rubbing onto this card board, and the shrieking old woman who lives in my house, playing solo card games, and threatening to murder, decreeing that she made me, and she can carry out the inverse.
Proclamation of my hopeless task, tears running, burning trash cans, faking death, and poultry running accross the farm from where i came that fateful night, and screaming pleasure from myself, to the end my body will travel.
But a message for and from and by my mind.

A dagger to a heart, is how I want to go.