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Graveyard

Duct tape and broken hearts. Like oil and water they don't go well together.
Let's ride off into the sunset with the tape hanging off the back of the car, dragging my heart along. 
Picking up all the dirt from the side of the street. Clogging my arteries. I might need stents soon. Who knows? 
No blood is pumping. The dysfunctional heart only pretends to beat. Not even a skip. Just a monotone, sad rhythm, not worthy to put a smile on your face.
Boom
Boom
Boom
Blank stares and empty pages. 
Boom

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