The hearts of men are thirsty, beating, and impulsive. Longing for the unknown, the undefined, and the untouched. Something new, something old, something better than what we hold. Angry are these hearts who can’t find their way. They grow tense, they grow cold, and before they know it, they are old. The heart is more than just an organ pumping blood through some veins. The heart is something that we can not explain. So many things fill up our hearts, and sadly some of them stain very dark. I haven’t figured out a remedy for this. Maybe some good bleach, a knife and a kiss…? Don’t you get like that sometimes? Wanting to just rip out your heart and get a new one. Maybe you’d forget all the feelings that got you here in the first place. But how long does a pure heart last? Does it even exist or has it been stained by our nature? I really would like to know. But more importantly, can you save it? I don’t see why we should all be doomed. Perhaps we are though and I guess some just deal with it better than others. I always wondered how people lost their minds. It is a funny image if you think about it. I often picture it as the mind floating out of the body and up into the sky, much like a lost balloon that has slipped from the grasp of a small child. Once noticed, it is too late and far beyond their reach so they just stand there, helpless, watching it float away into the clouds.