Before I wrote songs I wrote poems. Here's another one from the vaults.
Sharks close their eyes
the moment before they strike.
They sense the electrical signal
of the heart, they know where to bite,
they can find it blind. The heart
will betray you every time.
It's been a year I've chosen
to be alone. My life is full
of work and talk and the occasional fling
where no one falls for anyone—it's best
to become heartless. No one holds me
back; I don't get that attached.
I say heartless but this is a lie. It beats
red and bloody underneath it all, I am ripe
for slaughter. It keeps getting harder
to hide the signal: the heart wants
to be discovered. Or devoured,
if that's what it takes.
The sharks' own hearts must crackle with charge
as they glide silently through the leaden water—
do they sense each other's presence
as they sense prey?
Do their hearts call out to each other
in the darkness beneath the waves?
I want someone to draw my passion
like a magnet, a target, I long for it.
So the heart sends out its signal: I'm a beacon.
Nothing will protect me from the danger.
I'm just waiting to feel
the teeth sink in.
Ellia Bisker, 2004