Made of sediments, some man made.
Sediments that I eat each day.
My brick heart's not heavy
it's about the same weight as my fist.
My brick is soft, compared to others.
It's kinda curvy and could get scurvy.
It's a brick with pluming, but with no water.
My brick, it's electrical, like a phone, constantly pulsing,
making my insides bleed.
It's a warm brick.
about 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit
Warm enough to warm colder bricks
It's a kind of Halloween brick;
it spurts blood everywhere on the outside of me
and it's kind of like a weird monster on the inside.
Inside of me the brick is black.
It sees no light.
It's kinda tight
On the outside, the brick turns red.
Like a sunset. But it be not dead.
Like a sunset. But it be not dead.
I started from the earth, like you.
My heart is made of sediments,
Sediments That I eat each day.
Sediments that grew into food
food in body rearranged
into a brick, into a heart, that of a brick, To fill some space,
To be the master of your body's circulation is at stake.
Except for the picture This poem is completely literal. There are similes but no metaphors, the word brick was used loosely though.
No emotion is involved.
All Like a brick
