I wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the
thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside. I ride the
train, walk among the buildings, men in Monday suits.
The flight of doves, the city of tents beneath the
underpass, the huddled mass, old women hawking
roses, & children all of them, break my heart. There's a
dream I have in which I love the world. I run from end to
end like fingers through her hair. There are no borders,
only wind. Like you, I was born. Like you, I was raised in
the institution of dreaming. Hand on my heart. Hand on
my stupid heart.
-Cameron Awkward-Rich
"Hand on my stupid heart."
Effusive Thoughts 