the heart against the brain

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IT’S DIRT.

One mouth on my face, always bleeding. See?
Who needs the poem? We’ve got all the red

we need right here on our fingers, the papercuts
ten miles deep. Here on earth, we’ve got rivers

that flow in two opposing directions simultaneously.
We can relate to that, right? I can part my brain

like the Red Sea, wide enough to crawl through
and make it safely to the other side. I know it’s

boring, to let your hands fight each other. To turn
them against each other. The brain yells down to

the heart, When will this kid grow up? And bizarre
heart, always on the defensive, finding word to

replace word to guide the fumbling mouth through
the dark, says over and over, Hold on, let me try this

again, I know I can do better
.

Of Paint And Van Gogh

Vincent  Van Gogh painted his insides yellow the way we now drown ourselves in alcohol and timed love

to try and force happiness where the darkness lies in wait, hiding

but the only thing we seem to be any good at is poisoning ourselves, over and over, until our hearts rebel against the burning toxins and our brains scream out against the crushing weight 

and I can’t say I’m innocent of carrying my own paint

because I slather yellow over the things I can’t talk about and pretend they don’t exist, that they aren’t there waiting for the rain to come and wash away the dye

and the rain will always come because, as Van Gogh said, “This sadness will last forever.”

~A.N.S.

we don’t stop loving the people we love because they’re jerks,” i say. “that’s when it becomes really scary. because the heart, wild emotion, is winning against the brain with anything rational.