I can`t imagine how it feels
to have your intestines ripped out of you.
I know how it feels
to be gutted through your mouth
because I am sure that it can`t be worse
than having your heart ripped out through your back
and stamped upon.
The heart is an organ of the body but
mine used to beat to the tempo of love.
I have been rendered heartless,
The only one that held it in her hands
has crushed it and squashed it with machines weighing thousands of tonnes.
I don`t know if she returned the scraps
because I died when she killed it.
Now I am dead, a living-dead
because I had the misfortune of loving
a `confused and messed-up` person.
You might think my face is bloodied by tears now,
Imagining that I feel like plunging a rapier into my side or eyes
But that means you don`t understand me yet;
My hands are coldly pulsing with the death venom in my blood
My tear glands that were on exile have been eaten up by maggots
I wish to clean myself up with a cool stream of liquid from my soul
but then I find I no longer have one;
I am numb, I am soulless,
I am dead.
When alive, I never foresaw this,
this death that comes from thirsting after a mirage,
a mirage that appears on the long hot road of life,
a life that desperately wants love,
the kind of love that is believed to conquer all opposition.
But these oppositions that assail me prove that they are not from the pages of a romance novel
as I have loved, not in vain, but to waste,
receiving no fellowship that comes from an agreeing heart.
She doesn`t love me,
now I know.
`Forget about me`, she said.
Too late!
I want tears, but the sea of life in me has been sucked dry;
so, you can`t see my tears.
