
At work I don’t need a heart.
But I just can’t— Move around my body neatly.
I don’t laugh, I don’t cry. I’m just like this from living.
My body’s become very light.
Because I’ve got no heart today. Just can’t pass through the heart.
I’ve turned out like this today. I walk the streets with the after-work crowds.
Unsteady standing, unsteady walking.
The eyes reveal no emotion. Can’t come out from the heart.
As for myself, see me as the night. From the shirt a button falls.
From where will I emerge?
Eyebrows express nothing. Language conveys no emotion.
As for others, see me as the day. The wind swirls on my chest.
From the space between two document files?
I will be rational as hair. Words are just expressionless.
Day and night are chaos. The wind has lost direction. I pull tight my shirt.
Doors are slanted, walls stacked
upon themselves.
All combed in one direction. Broken fluorescent lights don’t matter, broken
clocks don’t matter.
Blow the blackness of the night into the day. Discover the concave chest is
cold.
The manager says: “Come out. Come out of your heart.”
Guide the wind in one direction. The 9-to-5-ers are busy as usual.
Blow the whiteness of the day into the night. It’s true, need a heart to
fill….
Not passing through my heart.
Not coming out from the heart.