Wooden Heart

February 1, 2021

A lot of snow has been falling on everything lately. It’s winter and Canada, so it’s to be expected. Except that now it may contain some freaking COVID-19, so I just look at the snow and tell it to fuck off to summer and I close the window shutters so not to even see it and its cursed whiteness. Too bad it’s not blue like the sky in May or June. I’m sure COVID wouldn’t care but I would, especially with all the wood in my heart.

Wood? you may ask. Yes! Wood like the one you may be using to cut your carrots and other dead vegetables upon. It’s usually good wood similar in a blind way to the wood in my heart. My heart doesn’t break anymore. It simply cracks like poor wood. I don’t have good wood there. It’s ancient wood from some bygone era when Earth was covered by trees as far as any eye could see. There was no religion to speak of. It all came later with the wooden gods and wooden carvings of celestial objects. Can you believe they made a wooden Sun and a Moon made of wood?

A wooden heart is no big deal. I can show you mine. It’s almost visible on my skin. Even through the rather scarce canopy of hair. When I knock on it, it’s like knocking on wood. It doesn’t feel good to knock on wood and especially a wooden heart. It feels hollow sometimes, as if my heart has left for a better chance at happiness. It never learned like my brain that it’s a pipe dream invented to keep us saner than we would have been if we all knew that it didn’t exist.

Don’t worry! It always comes back like a cane. I hold it with one hand and put it back inside. It’s at that moment that I hate Pinocchio the most. Don’t ask me why! Perhaps it’s because the freaking puppet was made of good wood. I love good wood and I prefer to see it as part of a beautiful tree that I can talk to and congratulate for still being alive, with all the tree hunters around.

I salute you again, most noble creature, and I always carry your kin deep in my heart.

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I didn't have tears this time around. My heart was as dry as old wood ready to be thrown into some hellish fire.

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January 1, 2021

Pinocchio X: What a Liar

Don’t lie Pinocchio

And fuck your wooden nose

It’s your first wood growing

Soon it will be as long

As the prick of a horse

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Don’t even think a lie

And fuck your nose again

Did you see your woodwork

You have no balls at all

And the wood is too thin

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What’s the point of lying

And cut your freaking nose

Then add the extra wood

To your pointy wood prick

So it will seem more real

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January 8, 2021

Pinocchio Y: Was It the Wood

Why did Pinocchio lie very much

Was it because of the wood in his eyes

Or the fact that wood was his only touch

And his entire frame save the metal ties

Today Geppetto could have used AI

With little or no good wood to speak of

Designing Pinocchio not as sly

Giving him the look of a droid in love

He could then look at the sky and the Sun

Absorbing the light to recharge his brain

Being unafraid of the fire begun

In his heart or of any lasting stain

Wherefore art thou Pinocchio of yore

Methinks you would have remained like before