A sinking feeling

There's an unrelenting torrent of words spewing from what seems to be emotional turmoil in the left aorta. That coupled with the drug induced self-doubt should be enough to question surviving the night. I had always imagined that love would be an easily managed thing. I never thought it would claw at the scabs of my wounded heart like a crazed rat. Each painful nibble opening old scars a little bit more as the arteries pump all sorts of darkness into, whatever it is that's left. Not much hope for a broken heart. Take off the gloves, lock up the defib, this one is done. The boys will bid me well and float me down the river. Tell my mother I'll miss her, tell the girls I wish I could say the same. Let them watch the torrent of words finally drown this broken barge of mine.