I tried once to follow from my mind the path
the pulsing grotesque chambers
the shining valves electric
anode, cathode, diode
power of life itself.
Cold logic would stop my breath
hang as I looked for where love
hate and all those unspoken
ideals pressed against
xyphoid process.
This cathedral of viscera and calcification
a cave, a canyon, a tomb
for the ideal that we profane
with our plastic heart's
pop music requiem.
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