The message never gets across,

I cannot blame it for failing, for like the desperate man

telling his heart to stop gripping tightly, sucking

the very breath out of him and as the feeling of dizzy peculiarity

washes over his mind as if complaining about all the wrongs

the heart has thought, I ignore it,

as the message gets itself becomes ignored.

The message, one of such ease to take in, one that requires

so little thought on the receivers part, is tossed aside

as if written on a paper napkin, stained with curry sauce