The Contents of My Heart

Vacant...Timewasters, Lurkers and Malingerers need not apply

How can I describe the contents of my heart……

There used to be a ghost of a chance in there for a while but he seems to have wandered off.

There were some romantic notions.. when they stop bleeding from the stab wounds I’ll bury them out back in the wasted ground.

The splinter of ice that Graham Greene gave me is still there fortunately, I’m rather fond of that[1].

There are some rose tinted glasses and some scales that fell from my eyes last night, might have to sweep those under the carpet. That’s Embarrassment you can hear in the kitchen; she’s hoping I don’t know she’s there.
As you can see the place is littered with metaphors and those are the sticky fingerprints of desire and longing, it’s amazing how difficult they are to get rid of.
That’s a painting I did not too long ago called “Past Experience” I’d forgotten about that.

Upstairs, that’s someone else’s apartment; works a lot of overtime; paints pretty pictures, half blind and half drunk on their own opinion most of the time but ok if you take everything they say with a dose of reality…. . they are very plausible but I won’t be getting any more recommendations for tenants from up there.

There’s a lot of baggage in the corner that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of. And of course there is the ubiquitous STD; not what you think; Sexually Transmitted Distrust but nearly everyone’s got that these days

The Bastard Detector is always here, but she’s too sensitive at present; wants to torture anything in trousers, her twin The Minx is in the spare bedroom at present. Awesome duo to watch, one lures the poor sods and the other one despatches them in ways that make me think I should introduce them to Stephen King…. personality disorder…..no, no I just think they are passionate about what they do.. and they nearly always clean up after themselves. Who, Guilt…… no Guilt doesn’t live here anymore the twins threw rocks at her till she moved out.

That, over there in the shrine surrounded by candles and incense is the Song of Truth it’s a sort of signpost or map….its how I’ll know that I’ve found the perfect tenant; it’s a lighthouse in the sea of loneliness…which song is it? …This Kiss from the soundtrack of Practical Magic. When a tenant makes me feel the way that song does I’ll put the twins in therapy, unless he’s a psychologist and he’ll know what to do with them himself.

[1] Graham Greene said that novelists have a splinter of ice in their hearts that allows them to look at their own and other people’s pain and write about it.