The chambers of my heart are grimy, slick with bloody splatters of the person

I no longer am. Moldy collections of people

I no longer know.

Beggars come to its valves, pounding for what they cannot see,

They don’t know there is no way out. I fire arrows blindly,

Don’t you dare come closer. Until someone can honestly make me believe chambers

Aren’t just for secrets, they’re for lovers too.