Prosopagnosia

Night and day’s tied faces to the plainly hidden
Double helical wrapped Christmas morning gifts
Opened up like halos when street lamps kick in

Weltschmerz

My inside pulled out heart
Is a 300 gram autobiography
Broken, bleeding and revealing
Systolic wars and diastolic peace
Beats between nausea and hope
Scrawled in my lost arrhythmia
Like the cadence of a rainstorm