Sick

My heart is in critical condition. It should just give up and die. I'd have it replaced with a heart made of tin, plastic and leather that could still perform all the mechanical functions of pumping blood to and fro but it would cease to be the metaphysical creator and receiver of emotion . Once that was accomplished I could start looking for the metaphysical storage facilities of emotion on my physical person and clear those out with some well chosen yoga positions or maybe a diuretic of some sort (efficiency is what's important here). Cleansed and thinking clearly I would finally be able to get some work done. You might say "whoa, wait a second, work?! doesn't all your so called 'work' come from your 'heart' you emo hipster fag?" To which I'd say "Up until this point maybe BUT this new emotion free condition leaves me open to explore my fascination with bees or humming birds. Perhaps I could create work around the beauty of a raspberry or do investigative research about the evils of corn syrup or hell take up brain surgery or boxing for that matter." Seriously whatever. All I can say is that moments ago I ate a much too big bowl of Peanut Butter Puffins and now I feel like puking my brains onto the floor which is hard to do through the incessant stream of tears flowing from my eyes. I blame my critically unclaimed heart. Tick tick tick stop.