I woke up to the sound of nothing
The stillness I forgot amidst the chaos of work
I woke up wanting to do something
But all I could think of was work

What did I even do for fun?
A cup of tea? Smoke some ****?
Those were the wrong thoughts
That was all for stress relief

Now I'm squeezing stress from nothing
An empty room an empty phone
It was my day off
And I had nothing to do

Time was running out
And my day off became another off day.

Men speak of evil. How do they know it so? Men speak of the evil that lives down below? They might give it colors and maybe a face? But its only fear standing in its place.
Men speak of angels to oppose devils down below. But they only punish men who knew evil as friend not foe.
Men speak of evil as a man or as a thing. Something that's been given life by a greater being.
Evil is a act, not one of god.
Men may speak of evil but they don't truly understand, evil is committed by the deeds of thy own hand.
no demon will credit himself of you, the evil that you do? That is a choice made by you.

My excuse?
                            —  I
                                  never learned
                                  to write a sonnet proper.

Tonight is a night for smoking.

I know it is.
The evidence is in
the music playing in my head,
the jacket of calm I'm wearing,
and the sudden slowness to my movements.

Tonight is a night for smoking,
and regret.

I’ve grown weary of those who claim
A false tense of enlightenment
So bored of vast displays
Of neon pigments and entitlement  
For where the fairies walk
And spirit hooded figures talk
I cannot find, cannot divine
Where soul and ego bear to walk…
( in unison )
So permissive is this culture,
That I feel the eyes of vulture
Preying on the weak and un-avowed
In what kind of world is this allowed
(to continue?)
But who am I to question,
The laws, the rites of these transgressions
I am merely just an actor  
An inconsequential factor
But I do I dare deny
That in your dogma there’s a lie
For all the glitter in the world
Cannot turn **** into a pearl

Look at that cut,
Look at that scratch,
What's that mark?
Just a cat.

Look at those tears,
Look at her cry,
Are you okay?
Just dust in my eye.

Look at those lies,
Look at the fake,
Why do you wear bracelets?
Stop asking questions, for sake!

But they're not just cuts,
Or tears or lies,
It's just one more,
Until you die.

Something of these days remind of a past,
Surprising how long they feel when knowing how long it's really last,
Memories made and sactioned deep within the mind,
I seek out the truth even if I do not like what I find.

From what the world has sickened is my hopes to purify,
This world is deep beneath the darkness and I yet find reason to conform.
Animalistic behaviors explained through a matters of sophisticated terms of a means to justify what is poison.
Barbarianism with intellect.

We are poison.

They Know
of course they know
I let them show
and now they know

They have to know
They asked and she showed
like it was something I was owed
Like I earned it from the show
so of course they know

I should know better than to show what I owe