My insensitive recklessness is systematic to my madness.
Madness honed from years of an erratic existence.
Ruthlessness born from a problematic insane lifestyle.
I can’t take away the pain that lies beneath the surface.
I wish to perish at times.
Just to make the madness stop.
For it drives me to seek the reaper.

The demons are real
They whisper to me
The monsters are here
Don’t try to flee
I try not listen
To block out the noise
To keep my composure
And act with good poise
But every so often
Just now and then
I might hear whisper
That does make some sense
Then ever so slightly the mask gives a slip
The madness exposed
My sanity stripped
Just for a moment the monsters are free
Until I I can cage them
And return to be me

Spoiled and corrupted, my love interrupted.
Purity smashed and dirtied and dashed.
What have I done, will she ever come back?

Please undo this seemingly unfixable mess.

but are you not in all things?
the glory of morning and the peaceful rest of night.
our love is no light affair.
it is the heavy press of storms
and found in the eastern and western rains.
is not each word but a picture frame of my love?
to display it as clearly as a blue sky and an untouched lake.
are you not with me in every moment?
a constant presence
through every sunset and sunrise.
through every hot month of summer and cold of winter.
you are the heavens,
you are the earth.
and happiness is of you, a brilliant
radiant light of all the good in the world.

I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.

Drink in this private pardon-
a pause, just before the dawn
a stage for darkness to reach its break.

Twirling, clutching skin-
a silent command for eyes to be resting open,
shared, steady, and still-
breath briefly unredeemed.

Lift, and you sour                                                      high from the low
     scorn, and you lose                                          joy from the sad      
            cry, and you bore                              lark from the crow               
                 sing, and you choose    >    good from the bad

You have yet not seen me at my worst
Nor have you seen me trying my best
You just met me seconds ago
And already termed me as a nuisance.