Heart -- July 11, 1998 So much poetry fills these pages pouring out my heart. My heart is empty, nothing shines, nothing light. Wrench it out -- the pain is too much to bear. Take the wretched organ and still the pulsing beat. Draw breath no more, draw in the last remnants of happiness in your memories. Hold them dear; for they are in the past and there is no future that I can see.