The Black Heart

it festers inside you like a seed waiting to sprout
yearning for something to make it come alive

It follows my ears
it drums my ears
it tickles my touch
it flavors my taste
it filters my smell

It is always there when you need it, but when you want it, it is never there

A heart that is part of you, part of us all
but it beats for the living.
Which draws a question
How many of us will survive?