[UnbornBuddha]

For what’s it worth, I don’t regret anything.
But, if that was true,
Why do I want to forget everything?
I neglected her lips, leaving her alone in bed,
Where she pledged to wait for me in her soulless dress.
Yet, instead of her caress I chose the scalpel and knife;
Saving lives, resurrecting the dead after they died.
I began to see myself as a master of time
A mastermind walking the path of travels divine.
When turning back the clock in matters of life
Each second regained is a valuable sign.
It’s ominous, though,
When you can see faint shadowy light.

CLEAR!
The defibrillator shocked her system,
Two paddles vibrating her organism.
Don’t flat line on me please, I’m sorry
I didn’t mean to keep you worried,
Or awake all night in a sleepless torment.
Now your restless heart seeks to forfeit
Its lordship; It’s traumatic seeing
My saw hack deep through your chest.
I’m here now dear, finally showing you love
By cutting into your sternum & opening you up.
Cardiothoracic surgery makes every moment enough,
Contemplating contentedness while soaked in your blood
Trying save your life.
I’ll hate to see a myocardial infarction break our tie,
Since you’re a surgeon’s wife, you’ll be bumped up in the organ list.
You won’t have to wait long for your metamorphosis.
But, just as hope glimmers your heart stops beating, why?
Asystole, a direct expression of our love bleeding dry.
For what it’s worth I tried to make you stay and live.
For god sake, I can literally taste your veins and lymph
Yet, your heart decided instead to fade away...Exist
somewhere ethereal where you can make-believe myths.

Oh sweet Beatrice, ever since your departure
I’ve sunk low, going into brothels…
A martyr exposing himself to diseased carnage.
As another women lies on top of me,
My only thought is of monogamy
What the hell is wrong with me?
Suddenly I’ve become something I’ve hated.
Someone who’s stuck in the phases,
The changes, where life and death’s functions are greatest.
I’ve come to realize doctors are agents of destruction
-Created to give patients their assumptions
But, all value is determined by your inherent worth,
And to someone as cynical as me, earth inert.
Even the most blissful earthly pleasure hurts.
By the way, the whorehouse is a metaphor (wink, wink).