Where there is rot

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Where there is rot, there is bacteria.
Where there is bacteria, there is disease.
Where there is disease, there is dis–ease.
Where there is no ease, there can be no contentment.
There can be no acceptance of impoverished mindset.
There will be no acceptance of irregular heartbeats.
I will forever beat irregular, I was born with it.
Just when you think you fall into a system of normalisation with me,
I’ll skip three beats ahead of you.
Just when you think you’ve caught up, I’ll hold out on three beats,
Three breaths, three moments of time, where three children were born, and three died.
That’s what an Aortal valve prolapse does. \
It reverberates in your every cell.

Nothing is regular, don’t fucking normalise me.
Don’t attempt to civilise me.
I’m not your lapdog, domesticated pet.
I’m so far fetched, of so far fetched,
Of so far offbeat, your lungs will run out of air,
Before mine think of even sucking a breath.
You’ll scream out your liver, and still wait for my response,
My uncivilised, non-linear response.
Wait,
Wait my precious, wait.
In that waiting listen to your heart beat.
Have you ever heard anything so majestic in rhythm, So disgusting in violence?
Thumping your chest cavity, forcing your body to obey it’s rhythm?
Such a merciless dictator, but you’re not in synch.
Nothing will synchronise with me.
Just listen.
Quiet

-W.E.

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