The Heart Is A Virus

All consuming, without it you die.
Evaporates the soul or sends you flying high
As hard as newspaper, also as soft as three-ply.
Pumping fluids into every corner, and leaves you high and dry.

Encourages bad behaviour,
Pushes over the edge without introducing your saviour.
Connecting to soul and mind you'd figure.
Tossing you into disconnect making you the failure.

Pulsating beat that should've brought bliss.
Inevitably leaves you lost in the abyss.
Love? What is love but lust, you'll dismiss.
For abandonment comes sealed with a kiss.

Fragility is its strength.
Broken it sends wrong signals in continued length.
Habits quickly found just to send the heart to the bench for a tenth.
Unnoticed addiction steps in to kill the beat, consistent absinthe.

Forget, the desire to forget.
Poker face stuck on, placing your bet.
Sh*t! You're in so much sh*t with those hands painted red.
Layer upon layer stacked so high, youy made your own bed.

Scattered beyond repair everywhere.
Prescription drugs couldn't numb you, so why not dare?
Desperation as habit not to feel and never care.
Addiction took over, and you see nothing except for that at which you stare.

Local anisthetic to numb heartaches insanity.
Home made brew of insensitivity.
STOP! Too late you've been locked in captivity.
Face your heart, its a virus without relativity.

Bizarre twisted pathway to death, you've been led astray.
Your heart is a virus in which you lay.
Commanding its neighbours who happily convey.
Slowly your being served, the pieces they filet.

Life? What is life with a deceased mind.
Alive? How alive the dead soul you find.
Love? Can't love as your hung a corpse of taxidermy, one of a kind.
Stiff, cold and black marbled pits in your head, you cannot see you're blind.

Too much, it was too much pain, so you tried to forget it existed.
You stuck yourself with that taxidermy-duck's needle and now you're all twisted.
Preserve you, it didn't, in your demise it assisted.
Stiffly on display you can't move, its a suicide mission you've enlisted.

Couldn't face the virus beating you into oblivion one beat at a time.
Your end so near, yet your ignorance is on the climb.
Numbing your heart through 'hired agents and crime.'
A price that exceeds your budget, you've already used your last dime.

Infected. The heart is a virus.
Temporary cure that lasts till you break again, thus.
Should you survive, which seems unlikely as you're to reckless.
Run from all the agents that plunder your heart, and do not take them into your service.

The heart is a virus.
Deadly its slowness.
Pure and Sinless.
But still a virus, non the less.