Shape Of My Heart Poem by Igor Wolfson

I shuffle them as a therapy
I do not deal them as a meditation
It makes me forget all the things
For which do I have to be patient

Ace to king, ace to king
King to ace, king to ace
It's not really that I don't remember a thing
It's those things that I don't want to face

I false cut, and I riffle
Till feelings are lost
Till all that I need is that needle
With a very strange vaccine - that voice

And when I am blinded again
Remind me to breathe and start over
I'm hovering over and over
Above some mad half hearted man