Hand In My Chest

[Gamer]

i have a hand in my chest
by my heart
no one will tell me how it got there
it came up on the X-ray
i don’t know what to say
i have a hand in my chest
by my heart

it happened when i was 24
And even though I was young,
my heart was old, already sore,
slowly breaking at the core,
from learning what a life is for,
(It gives you your senses, but not a cent more)

it happened at the music store
i should have been gleaming,
but instead i was glumming,
and needing a numbing,
He pounced on me in a shadow
it happened while dreaming, drumming
it happened by the guitars and guitars,
where long hair was streaming, strumming

There’s wasn’t no screaming, scrumming,
it happened so slow,
what did he look like?
I don’t even know.

he smiled and drugged me
and dragged me somewhere private
reached down through my mouth
and into my chest
wrapped his fingers around it
while it was still beating.
when he pulled up his arm, and this is a guess,
he drew up a stump,
but there wasn’t a mess;
it was his intention to leave his hand behind

many years later
i feel it squeezing, and squirming,
and possibly waiting to kill me some day
knowing it’s in there, sure doesn’t thrill me,
but i think i can live with it,
i think it’s kind of ok

and maybe i think
that in some kind of strange way
it’s needed, it’s soothing,
it keeps me alive.
granted i’d have it removed
in a heartbeat
I’d drive to the doctor,
but I’m too soothed to drive

i just wish i remember,
just how it happened,
there’s a spot in my memory
that’s hazy at best,
what was he thinking,
why did he do it,
no one will tell me,
they’re letting it rest

maybe someday,
they will put me in surgery,
and take out that damn freaky hand,
that’s holding my heart,
maybe i’ll be fine,
and i won’t die in surgery,
but just who is “they”

is it muting the muscle
that makes me a man?
or is it keeping my heart from shattering,
and part of some plan?
it’s like a fucking
surreal space octopus,
right there latched into
my precious soft core,
suckers and all,
it’s disturbing when i think about it
so i file it away

maybe it’ll come out some day,
or maybe it’s fine
maybe it’s the one thing keeping
me alive,
oh…
fuck…
maybe it’s mine.

[sogold]

i just wish i remember,
just how it happened,
there’s a spot in my memory
that’s hazy at best,
what was he thinking,
why did he do it,
no one will tell me,
they’re letting it rest

maybe someday,
they will put me in surgery,
and take out that damn freaky hand,
that’s holding my heart,
maybe i’ll be fine,
and i won’t die in surgery,
but just who is “they”

i like this part, it’s so meaning

---

sogold at gia ca phe and gia ca phe hom nay

[Orbie]

@Gamer

i have a hand in my chest
by my heart
no one will tell me how it got there
it came up on the X-ray
i don’t know what to say
i have a hand in my chest
by my heart

it happened when i was 24
And even though I was young,
my heart was old, already sore,
slowly breaking at the core,
from learning what a life is for,
(It gives you your senses, but not a cent more)

it happened at the music store
i should have been gleaming,
but instead i was glumming,
and needing a numbing,
He pounced on me in a shadow
it happened while dreaming, drumming
it happened by the guitars and guitars,
where long hair was streaming, strumming

There’s wasn’t no screaming, scrumming,
it happened so slow,
what did he look like?
I don’t even know.

he smiled and drugged me
and dragged me somewhere private
reached down through my mouth
and into my chest
wrapped his fingers around it
while it was still beating.
when he pulled up his arm, and this is a guess,
he drew up a stump,
but there wasn’t a mess;
it was his intention to leave his hand behind

many years later
i feel it squeezing, and squirming,
and possibly waiting to kill me some day
knowing it’s in there, sure doesn’t thrill me,
but i think i can live with it,
i think it’s kind of ok

and maybe i think
that in some kind of strange way
it’s needed, it’s soothing,
it keeps me alive.
granted i’d have it removed
in a heartbeat
I’d drive to the doctor,
but I’m too soothed to drive

i just wish i remember,
just how it happened,
there’s a spot in my memory
that’s hazy at best,
what was he thinking,
why did he do it,
no one will tell me,
they’re letting it rest

maybe someday,
they will put me in surgery,
and take out that damn freaky hand,
that’s holding my heart,
maybe i’ll be fine,
and i won’t die in surgery,
but just who is “they”

is it muting the muscle
that makes me a man?
or is it keeping my heart from shattering,
and part of some plan?
it’s like a fucking
surreal space octopus,
right there latched into
my precious soft core,
suckers and all,
it’s disturbing when i think about it
so i file it away

maybe it’ll come out some day,
or maybe it’s fine
maybe it’s the one thing keeping
me alive,
oh…
fuck…
maybe it’s mine.

 maybe it will come out someday

or maybe it’s fine,
maybe it’s mine

reminds me back in high school had a teacher he said something to the effect that we go on in the world suppressing the thought of the constant whirr of the pumps, the channels of red, of all the intricate effects gong on within, thinking of ourselves as if looking at our selves as if topically, cosmetically
from the outside, and not realizing that we do not look at others basically from the fear of what the heck is all that that’s going on inside, rivers of blood, and histories of emotion.