I've been burned many times in my life
From a stove, a fire,
A lighter or a match,
A candle or its wax

Even just from food—  
A drink taken too soon  
Scalded my tongue—  
Now nothing tastes the same.

My feelings, too,
Laid bare like a muscle,
Pulled from within,
Blazed,
With a flame,
That burned what couldn't last.

And the only way to teach  
That fire is hot  
Is to let someone  
Touch it,
Because will  
Can’t be stopped.

,

"I told you it was hot,
But you had to see for yourself,
Now you have that ugly mark"

You reached for the comfort—  
But it shattered like delph.
Now cold water
Is all that listens.

But no water calms the ache
Rising from the burn,
Already blooming-
On your hand.

Because wonder outweighed warning—  
You had to know the flame.

there's probably something
far deeper at work here
something quite important
and worth delving into
to be explored more
thoroughly
consequentially
consciously

instead i'll probably
just end up thinking about
that shoelace in my boot
the one that still
needs to be replaced
ragged and frayed as it is
and i'll wonder how long
i can ignore it before
it finally snaps
and i'm left with
no choice anymore

Stones of age, sparkling in sun,
gleam at the light to hold.

A few dull—where nothings run,
Seams with trifles cold.

Pressure and pressure— more dull rocks won,
Nothing to shine in light.

They gleam their darkness to fade the sun,
Nothing to shine at sight.

With enough pressure,
And time just right.

A fissure,
A spark— sets light.

For in the weight of ignorance- of dull stones,
A spark, not wisdom, pulls blight.

Now,
For the sheer weight of consequence to mold-
The light, of dull rock— can first hold.

If you don't wanna understand it, don't.
You're not held to comprehension.
If you don't want to agree, don't.
You're not held to a thing in discussion.
If you don't want to think, don't.
You're still liable for your actions.
If you don't want to speak, don't.
You're still liable for its consequences.

Personally? Don't have a fit,
I don't give a ****.
Smell the flowers!

And at last he prayed,
Prayed since all hope had perished,
All virtues faded and all sentiments gone.
Down the river he now floats, cursed with angst and pain.
He mourns his loss but his grief won't go away, for this is the consequence —
The consequence of action he so inadvertently did without a second of thought.
Oh, the lives he ruined, the chaos he brought.
Denial is the river, and denial is what he sought.

In denial he drowned,
And in denial he remained.

-Asher Graves

~
This forbidden city
walks on water,
keeps all the undesirables at bay,
it's always a balancing act.

Oh, blighted court
of Catherine the Great,
thy friends are having a hard time,
but horsing around, no less.

Enlightened by summer drugs,
and busting out of
their tops and castles,
thongs on thy feet,
and thongs on thy bottoms,
this zenith and this nadir
come in colorful collages,
everything else is a flash of flesh.

Sped along by
frequent bloodletting,
there's a revolution in
thy teenage mind,
a looking for the hidden
and interested motives,
but no one can live
their life on the skis.

Rulership of heart is far
from recreation,
but you raised
a smile to sin,
until all we could do was
shake our heads and laugh.
~

You are my weapon,
my avenger,
the one I unleash
on anyone, anywhere.

Anyone guilty
of my lack of effort,
my frustration,
or of not being kind.

I fire you
for the things I lose
or the ones I fail to overcome.

I keep you tied to my waist,
always loaded,
but never well secured.

I **** you,
like a revolver in my hand,
and pull the trigger
with reckless passion.

I left the door ajar,
just barely —
a silent plea beneath the noise
of “I’m fine” and
“I’m just tired.”

I wrapped my pain in quiet places,
hid the marks where no one looks —
beneath waistbands,
behind layers,
hoping someone might see past it
without me having to say it.

But every time someone got close,
I turned colder, sharper—
a defense disguised as indifference,
a fortress I hated living in
but couldn’t stop building higher.

They tried, I know they did—
friends with warm hands,
family with concerned eyes—
but I shrugged them off,
convinced I was doing them a favor
by being alone in the storm.

Now the room is quiet again,
the fabric sticks to skin,
and I still can’t say
what’s bleeding inside me.

The world just kept on spinning,
while I stayed stuck,
fading in the spaces between
genuine smiles and forced ones.
And in the end,
everyone seemed to give up
and leave me—
not out of malice,
but because they couldn’t reach
what I was too afraid to show.

But I feel it now,
the echo behind silence,
the weight of a choice unspoken—

this action will have consequences.

The core is cracked, the gauges red,
They swore it’s fine—now hope is dead.
Control rods jam, the heat runs wild,
No turning back, the fuel defiled.

Containment’s gone, the walls decay,
Fallout drifts in skies of gray.
A silent flash, a world undone,
The chain reaction has begun.