I live in my heart

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 I wake up with the same heartache I fell asleep with. Thinking about all these studies that say that the heart has its own nervous system. 40,000 neurons, not that much but definitely enough to hold on a feeling. My cortical working memory can hold a world, but I'm old enough to know that it is not mine. A representaion woven by streams of forces that I barely had control over apart from awareness. 

But for my heart, there is this voice that says I shoudn't worry, I kept it hidden for that long, it is truley mine. I worry too much about ownership of my feelings, they tend to be painful most of the time, so I let them go. Yet still these leeches in the heart, despite how painful they roam around, I still can't find ways to let go of them.

 "No fable here no lesson

No singing meadow lark

Just a filthy beggar blessing

What happens to the heart"

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