You say you love all of me,
like I am your better half.
But half of the things that go through my mind
have only made you laugh.
You say you love my madness,
but your love felt just lukewarm.
While on the inside I'm a commotion;
a constant, violent storm.
You touch me with tenderness.
and I lie that I like it too,
but the truth is that I feel myself
when I am not with you,
because passion and recklessness
find a home in my soul;
so when I am set on fire
is only when I'm free and whole.

Tempting,
to test your luck, to push
the boundaries until they
break and let loose like
floodgates.

It may destroy a lot, but it sure as hell changes the landscape.

Besides,
there is a sort of sick beauty
in watching something
come apart, something
terrible and mesmerizing
about destruction.  

See, there are some parts of god I understand.

And you,
always you with the other
answers, about love and
mercy and all that rot.

Together we sing the pieces, you said.

It's all we can do.
It's all we know.

You and I were a summer thunderstorm,
Tension building in the distance, then
Shattering in a crack of thunder.
Whirlwind of passion, we never could
Have lasted, but, like hell we tried. The
Storm lost its ferocity, and all that was left
Is the damage in its wake.

I feel if I move from this place the sharpness of my knees will cut through the skin shrinking to be closer to my fragile bird bones or that upon lifting the body I am allowing to deteriorate the blood may rush too quickly behind my eyes leaving me unable to keep from tumbling and shattering in a beautiful spray of technicolor

Such heaviness
Bearing on me
All-consuming
Eating away
From all sides.
Soon
I must all be gone.


I feel.
Oh how I feel.
So many tears
How could this body
This tool
Hold so many
They fall down
As I do.
Without warning
Under attack.
I am helpless
I am powerless.
It is too late
But
I do
Deserve this.


Treasure maps
Fallen trees
Operator please
Call me back when it’s time
Call me back when it’s passed
No one to blame
But my stupid
My reckless
My self.


As ever
I shouldn't have.
As ever
I did.


The cure?
Time.
Or better yet
A time-machine.