Oh, how my heart aches and longs for something that it can never attain.
Yet, there is a tiny glimmer of a spark that if beholden to and nurtured.
It would suddenly start aflame and succumb to my deepest and inner desires.
It would be enlightening, enthralling or perhaps, irrevocably damage me wholly for all eternity.

People do much damage.
I guess I'd say,
                           you should go.
That's probably the best we can do.

There's something so beautiful in damage
For something to break, it must have been strong once
Once beautiful, in pieces now
Crying, sweating, screaming
There's something so beautiful in his damage
Fake smiles, fake laughing
If you pretend to fix yourself,
If you pretend you're not broken,
If you pretend you're whole,
Will you really be?
Sharp edges, pointed spikes, electric charge
Its broken now and not even the strongest glue can fix it
because its cracked
If you ask me,
There's something so beautiful in damage
because broken pieces love each other

Storm erupted


Another evening, peaceful at midnight
Stillness, rest, no interruption or light
People asleep, nothing to intervene
Soon turns to very different scene

A long faint shard Illuminates evening
No noise, brief white flash seething
Early morning, faint breeze stirs
The hint, noise, distant verve

Leaves faint skitter on the back patio
Sounds harbinger of a dark shadow
Light interrupts the dark frequently
A momentum gathers relentlessly

Breeze gathering in resolve, gale force
Its gusting, with a devilish resource
Trees thrown, branches thrashing
Light, noise together crashing

A vast crescendo of drums, rumbling
Bass, deeper peels, when tumbling
Booms accompanies the lightning
A sudden purple flash frightening

Bang, an enormous sudden explosion
House shaking, feel the commotion
In a violent instant felt threatened
Forceful, it's power deafened

In its angry wake is trail of damage
Houses and trees, impact savage
Electricity out, effect felt in days
Neighbourhood reacts in daze

Meanwhile the storm trails to the east
On distant houses, troubles sweep
Now to faint as rolling forwards
Huge force rumbles onwards

The noise, memory before morning
Damage counted as day dawning
A peaceful weekend interrupted
Night the violent storm erupted

I guess it's over.
Water has spilled all over our ink
and now our words are blurry.
Unreadable.
Unfixable.

But what do you care?
You were the one who tipped
the glass over.

i was made to love
such was my programming.
but every system has flaws
and when my love catches fire
and blazes into the sky
pulling my heart out with it
i retreat
i get scared
how do i love again
when it has cost me so much
how do i deny my makings
when there is a glitch in the system
how do i fix myself
when the damage has been done by foreign hands
there are no instructions
at least not in a language i understand.
no one can help me
but
me.
but i dont trust myself anymore
and so i am stuck.
i try to be loving
i try to go back
but in trying i am hurting
because you dont deserve it
because i put myself at risk again anyway

Lost, gone, darkness, vanished.
Impaled, dead, sliced. Red.

This is a sickness
this is damaged,
this is in my head, it's all over now.
they play ignorance blissfully drifting thru life.
I'm seeing this mutiny, sickly
thru a different light

"But I'm damaged" she said with watery eyes fixed on the moon

"We are all damaged goods...we are all cardboard boxes with fragile stickers handled by people that don't give a ****..and that's why we are shattered from the inside and that's why the deeper we get to know each other the more we hurt ourselves on the broken pieces but I guess rarely you find people tough and willing to rampage through it to find the pieces of you that aren't so sharp around the edges...the beautiful pieces of who you really are..and then they stick them together and try to fix us and sometimes they can..it's like we were never really broken..and if that's not something beautiful I don't know what is"

The walls around my mind
Are Japanese screens
With intricate designs
Of memory
Printed on them
Easy to break
But easy to repair

The walls around my heart
Are made of obsidian
They protect a delicate city
Untouched, as of yet, by human hands
Hard to break
When they do
How much damage will be done?