Ein Herz aus Stahl

If only my heart were made of iron. If only my mind were made of steel. If only I could be the man in the moon, hiding away a million miles away, far from all the things that have been transgressed upon me. Enjoy the poem, friends.

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The Book

A book of truths

and of lies,

bound in skin,

threaded by sinews.

Its ink is bloody

but pages paper.

May your fear never taper

and may your vision be muddy,

for your falsehoods here are written.

I only wish I could be smitten.

How the pages tell the story of my heart,

its every pump and every artery

in its every part.

Reading, you can almost hear the beating.

Oops… A paper cut.