Here's my heart, aim for the back of the net

	All i really want to do is go,
	I'm going no place so why not?
	Blue enough to turn your heart purple,
	A cold and crumpled-up, half-finished memoir,
	A potential, that's all, no more than this,
 
	Pick a category you've seen the worst of,
	Hold it up to the light - my shining example
	Of no hope, no chance, in the last-chance saloon,
	To buttercup smiling loon and back,
	Six painful steps on your road to recovery,
 
	Run down by the love train then tossed in the breeze,
	Find something to cling to in this freefall to the floor,
	Dust yourself off kid, take a look around,
	Put your passionate eye back in its box and assume the position,
	All you've learn is how not to...
 
	Trapped in the middle of your doll's house type dream, 
	Let me out and leave me be for ever,
	Walk away from this scene of crime,
	this time,
	with your head held high.
 
	The matches that lit the flames are still in your coat,
	now the ashes will blow around your door,
	Note to self: clean sweep required,
	But what to do with the longing left behind?
	That oh-so sweet and sickly.
 
	Hide the memories under the rug,
	bury the non-existing amongst the cold light of day until
	you're moving in a morass of potentials,
	never sure of which is real or imagined,
	I know, more's the pity, threads tied to my sadness.
 
	Look at me and tug the strings to see the sad love puppet dance
	one last time, 
	cut the strings if you can,
	but this bag of bones will drag behind you,
	A warning to passing ships: "no safe harbour!"
 
	So take my heart, still beating,
	Put it right where you want,
	test the breeze, take your run-up:
	aim for the back of the net...please. 

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