i’m choking on the sunlight washing over this world like it’s
trying to bleach out the blood stains soaking into the soil
from all the times humanity has proven to the universe
that we’re too ignorant to notice
that we’ve desecrated the land we call home,
even though ‘home’ is a feeling i buried a long time ago

when the earth is stripped inside out,
all you’ll find is a graveyard of broken promises
from every parent in the world who swore to a pair of infant eyes
i’ll always protect you
and instead found themselves in a hurricane of despair
cursing their own breath for letting whatever god they worship
make them into liars

if there is a god with the existential powers that be,
why won’t he make the angels wait?

closing your eyes to the universe makes it easy to ignore
the pointless wars fought over a petty man’s pride,
and the way children in some countries are no more
than expendable pawns on a chess board,
and how cultural individuality is perceived as a degeneracy
instead of one of the few naturally beautiful aspects of humanity;
but blind ignorance has been the root of most of the societal plagues
since the beginning of time;
when are we going to learn that
you can’t fight blindness by closing your eyes?

the blood painting our history hasn’t even dried yet
and we’re already abandoning our morality like
the last 200,000 years hasn’t taught us anything
about the souls giving themselves to the face of evil
or the lives we’re tossing into the wind without cause

i can feel their shadows clawing at my skin

and until we can own up to our flaws and our mistakes
and accept the guilt behind our actions
and fight to make a change in the way the world spins,
we really are no better than animals

our evolution is moving in reverse;
we're paving the way for our own armageddon

take a stand~
fight for the sake of your morality


~*m.k.

infinity

i stare at the walls for hours on end
and dream about a time when
this box felt like home
and this chipped paint looked like something
other than a reflection of the fist-shaped
holes in my heart from nights
where ****** knuckles were the only
security blankets familiar enough to cradle
against me all night long

the clock keeps ticking,
all day and all night,
like the hands on the glass
that measure the feeble idea of some
meaningless notion from a corpse now
rotting in the same earth he dared to
test the limits of
actually means something
in the big picture

but in the aerial view,
the hands on the clock are all
snapped in two

because *time can't save anybody
from vituperative parents;
from profligate neighbors;
from the entire volatile essence of humanity

time does not, in fact,
heal a broken heart,
or toss aside the muddy rug
with footprints of those who whispered
"i love you"
into the pillow case but never
came back in the morning

time can't protect anyone
from even the most unholy
truth of all:
there is no rapture on the brink
of delivery,
there is no antichrist plotting
a resurrection of hell,
there is no divinity coming
to save you from the darkness
inevitably forcing its way
into this world

people are destroying each other
because humanity is flawed
and no amount of time can
ever find the piece of the puzzle
that would sync us all together in
a symphony of lives untouched by the
execrable blood pumping in the veins
of this earth like a poison

time can't save you from yourself

and so maybe, the hands
on this clock are better off
broken.


*m.k.