Language of My Heart

I tell myself that you led me astray, that I got lost, being with you. Forgetting my own language just to speak to you, I lost myself in translation. And, now, without you, I try to find myself. I have no map, no co-ordinates. The information flows within me. So, I cut myself and watch me bleed. Feeling pain, watching the blood flower out of me, gaudy as poppies, seems like a worthy remedy for this swarm of nothingness that makes me feel hollow inside. I think of running, but can’t seem to get away from myself, in order to find myself. I long for the city, long for its feverish streets, that make me forget what I do not want to remember. There you’ll find me walking down a road called despair, suffocating in the thick air, with concrete blocks for feet.