A sprouting seed

How do we forget what we feel?
If feelings come from the heart,
And memories are the electricity in our brains,
If our hearts do forget,
Does that make our hearts electric?
Does that mean that we're all made like batteries,
A body of voltage from the push and pull between our hearts and heads,
When will it stop then?
When I have stopped pulling, or when you have stopped pushing?

The great red house of soup

Behind our circles of smoke and hot soup,
They slowly began,
Covered in the shadow of yellow lights,
The skinny stature of a bent man straightens,
As the red paint glows,
Brighter and brighter,
The truest of stars,
Shining over the darkest nights.