I need to shut my third eye
So I can finally go to sleep

Wrath sits in  my pocket, blushing Rosacea
like a tiny misunderstood ornamental figure.
He's the timepiece you gave me two years ago
that tends to detonate when you get too close.
I chain him to the loop of my belt
kept out of reach from the general public
but when you grind my gears for your pleasure
Wrath ticks, ticks, ticks, away his life
until one day, when his brother love fails
to bring him to his senses; the fuse will burn
Boom












We all are torn to pieces

Yesterday I found my heart teetering
on the tops of your fingertips.
I was attempting to walk across a tight rope
from my chest to yours without falling.
Ev'ry word you spoke was a gust of wind
pulling me closer to falling and I spoke
my own words to stabilize my legs.
But I knew the tragedy of one slip,
If I said something too strongly or
or I didn't listen well enough,
stumbling off the rope was inevitable;
whether I hit an unknown bottom
or kept falling down the rabbit hole
the result would be the same.
My heart, broken on impact,
the force of gravity tenfold
because the value of my love for you
is everything times ten to the tenth power.
I cannot really fathom a shattered heart right now,
but I'd imagine its something like--
Humpty Dumpty on steroids falling
from the moon instead because someone
accidentally mixed up the two children stories.
Humpty Dumpty jumped over the moon
and shattered every piece of himself on the way down.
For the kings men would never find him again
And I would never be able
to put the pieces back together.