I want to do something
So incredibly stupid
Just to see
What happens
To see
What it feels like

But the consequences
Of my stupidity
Are such that
I could never dare
To face
To give in

But how wonderful
It would feel
If I could just
Let myself
Do something
Something stupid

Within every motion is a consequence,
     for with wings there is motion.
Disturbing the flow of the world around it.

For with a sting there is but one consequence,
              a flutter of tasteful demise for oneself.
The pain on the other is fleeting,
                   for life was about on point.

But when a thousand wings flutter,
                       they move more than mountains.
for a breath when made by the many can influence
                        more than just a point made in anger.

A stab for a word.
A shot in the dark.
We die for a look
trying to justify who we are.

With this incantation
this formula;
Action.
Reaction.

Let me choose my faction
Contradict this faith
Cause no one's contributing
To my collection plate

Imbued by escapades,
that gifted
my man,
his hood.

Protecting my pride
Portraying my promises
Pure or profane
For pleasures and pains

Pushed by pixels.  
Saline soaked tissues.
Rent, rats, respect, rules
Tend to tempt the next move.

Excuse the grime on my shoes,
the grim in my eyes
cause I can’t tell the consequence
of showcasing a kinder side

If there was an off switch to life
Some people wouldn't hesitate to press it

When people tie a noose
We have time to think about the consequences

the sea of blood
you left behind
sticks to my memory
and stains the view
I had of you

I’ve come so far

Did it leave a mark?
How big is the scar?
Somehow I misunderstood and the fragility was mine

Space and time immortal in the moment
But the moment after that...
is the one which won't relent

Consequence is the Heart of Belief.
Whether a Truth .
Whether a Falsehood.
Whether Virtuous.
Whether Vice.
Conviction alters Reality.

Human existence is a stream of consequence.
Flowing through ebbs of Right and Wrong.
Of Heavy currents of deceit, which overflow the banks.
And pools of Stillness, in stagnant paradigms.

This Race of Fact and Fiction rampages.
The Powerful and the Hungry.
The Weak and the Proud.
All caught in the Tides of Creed.
An Undertow which swallows all.
Indiscriminate in its Finality.

one. my brother is in love with a girl.

two. my mom saw me reading peculiar books she asked me what was the story about. i just laughed and told her, ‘you know just the usual.’ she doesn’t know.

three. it was when i lied to my mother about school.

four. i cried myself to sleep.

five. i forgot to brush my teeth. it’s not that i’m unhygienic but when your body is too tired to live, it’s just too difficult to move.

six. i decided not to throw a birthday party when i was
6 years old. it’s not that we can’t afford it, but
i know that no one would show up except for that
boy with the weird hair and imperfect teeth.

seven.  it’s my third day in bed.

eight. i tried cutting myself. i tried but i’m too tired
to move.

nine. i’m so angry. i’m so ******* angry. i’m so *******
angry.

ten. it was when the funniest kid started to cry.
he didn’t said why. he remained like that for god
knows how long. that was when i knew that sadness
lives in every single one of us.

eleven. a few of my friends cut themselves to calmness. i
just watch them get eaten by the lines they drew.

twelve. i regret saying that.

thirteen. but i said it anyway.

fourteen. i’m too in love with the idea that someone better
will come, turns out that each person is the right
person. we just live in a timeline where they never
are.

fifteen i looked through a keyhole and saw my parents’
corpse.

sixteeni need someone. not the suicide hotline. i need
someone real. i need someone. i need someone. i
need someone. i ******* need someone.

seventeen. i’m falling in love with someone whose heart beats
fast for everybody except for me.

eighteen. i'm in a birthday party. everybody's laughing because someone made a joke about god. i left.

I feel an uncertainty when it comes to you.
Not because you want to do something that will destroy what we have between us,
but because you want to hurt me.
I clearly see what actions you do,
and I ask myself why you do it?

I'm afraid you will continue doing that.
That thing I clearly see you do.
I understand why you do it,
and I understand you never mean to hurt me,
but I'm afraid you'll do it anyway.
Because regardless of whether I'm sure why you do it,
and that I'm sure you never mean anything bad,
it hurts anyway.
That you want to hurt me,
hurts.

I'm here for you.
Here to fulfill what you want.
Your needs.
If you feel inferior,
I'm still here.
Here to fulfill what you want,
your needs.
I would never leave you if you felt inferior.
But you wish me pain either way.
Make me feel what you feel.
Make me feel inferior.
And I'm afraid you'll do it again.
Show that you are better than me in some way.
Make me unsure of myself.
Doubt myself.
Even though I see it clearly.
Your actions.
Your result.

I'm left thinking and thinking:
why would you do something like that to make me feel inferior?
To make me unsure of myself?
To make me doubt myself?
When I am here for you.
Here to fulfill what you want,
fulfill your need.

There's a difference between results and consequences.