Pisaries Creator

I landed.

Somewhere in the middle,
that’s right, yeah.

Middle of what, I’m not sure.

All I know it’s the center,
it feels funny.

It’s true.
The lies, that is.

She won’t face it,
knows enough about it though,
bopping her on the face and all,
leaving identifiable marks.

That’s right, keep looking away.

I surrendered.

Heard something from outside,
not quite right but still there.

You couldn’t count them all,
not enough fingers,
the toes never used.

I disappeared somewhere
between birth and death,
my middle age keeps bruising me.

Where my heart beats,
that’s all there is, 
somewhere.