Heart Disease

Does clotted blood curdle, 
does it skim

Do I get red stained powder in place of milk

Does it rattle in its cage

Knocked twice over

Does the pump rust over

Squeak with ill-use

Does it grind to a halt

Allegiance shift

What is that ache, consistent drummer

Innocuous, albeit a drug

Do I love the dignity

Torn, laid bare

Scratched off as with a scab

Humiliation wells in, as a douse of ink

Red. I am afraid

I self destruct

So I can taste the bittersweet

The pump, the stain

Tainting the vestiges

Of the highs

False highs, abysmal lows