An octopus has three hearts

An octopus has three hearts

Which one loves? Which one grew out of a wild distinct urge to survive amongst a motley crew of two hearted wimps.

Like a basketball not quite making it in, time and time again, life or death. A game being played with all of us, a part sacrificed to the whole, a stab in the dark

A mechanism for spontaneous unwanted, random growth that might

And here now we stare down the abyss, we should be so lucky as to be our own demise,

But somewhere is that part of us

which has the urge to survive.

We’re all part dinosaurs now, forests and fossils turned upside down stitched inside our cells. And still that urge.

On one hand the erratic blister of life and the other a microwave were making.

If we had our way it would all be under control.

But if we had our way we would have never given the octopus a third heart.