Society is a living animal
A cruel beast with a wicked maw
Serrated teeth and crooked claws
The way it wrangles its undesirables
Into the dark corners of its twisted
Bowels and forces them into
The most demeaning of positions
Offering mindless distraction
To the masses in the consumer
Wasteland of shopping malls or the
Cesspool of so-called entertainment
Eradicating any potential for
Greatness or agency for change
Hard labor for the poor
Or otherwise selling drugs or ***
To eke out an increasingly
Meager existence for themselves
Keeping them on the periphery
Yet constantly prodded by
The spears of the public eye
Suspended on their crucifix
As blood spills to exemplify
What's to come to any who
Should fall short of its graces

Community,
they told me I
I was a part of it,
that I must comply.


We’re told to comply
in the way we speak,
in the way we interact,
in the way we feel.
Those who oppose,
those who stand
for a transcendental nature
are fitted with the title
of an Outcast.


An Outcast: A person
deemed unfit to live
amongst the classiest
of society. It’s a title
given out by the Elites.
They give out a title
under the predicate of a
falsehood and the personal
perpetual facade of laziness.
I am neither.


I am in the world, yet I am
somewhere that isn't Earth.
I am here, but I am not.
I exist, but my mind, my
opinions become a blur.


My mobility becomes a leisure,
and my leisure becomes my labor;
My labor becomes my profession;
My profession beholds my title.
I roam in the society casted by the
Elites, but I am merely a chess piece
to their game.


I am not an Outcast, I am not an Elite.
I am the class of the inbetween.
I am the silenced voice.
I am the history that’s repeated,
I am not a part of the community.
I am of the voices that
are disregarded.

johnny don't need to go to school no more
johnny got some bullets that dont shoot slow
johnny got hisself a big auto-matic rifle
johnny got his own version of the bible.

Emotions are illusive like the monsters one can see. Monsters cannot be seen, so they live inside your head.
Are the monsters really destroying you? Or is it your thoughts whilst alone, lying in bed...
The illusion of life itself can lead to many emotions of ones mind...
Blinds us.
So we feed on the illusion of negativity.
Things happen that make us see the darkness.
Destructive, like a dead body and a ****** mess.
Corruptive...
Yet still I test.

I look around,
I see a sea of faces...
So many faces pretending
To be content with the life they have.
They walk around acting as if marriage and kids is the only source of fulfillment.
I feel a deep wealth of sadness
As the ones without those things
Still continue to progress forward,
While I sit washed away feeling useless.

Useless like a bird without wings...
Numbness is a glimpse.
As the emotions pour into you...
Your soul feels inburdened with dread.
Sins...

Sin isn't something that I believe in,
I believe in enjoying life to the fullest...
Yet I'm always with both knees to the ground.
Wondering if I'll ever be worthy of success,
I mean I'm just an outcast to most eyes that inhabit this planet.
There's not much meaning to my life.

An outcast with a craving for happiness.
So I take the devils side in hopes for success.
Failure is an illusive matter that my dark mind cannot cope with...
I judge myself in misery.
My dark philosophical thoughts rise inside of me...
Blind eyes see the lies...
And when in doubt, I see it too.
My third eye shut down...
My spirituality is all but gone...
I crave the high...
I need the drug in my veins to fight through the **** pain.

But even happiness is forbidden fruit,
An illusion best served as a party favor.

To the outcasts, the freaks
To the silent ones, the unheard
To the criers, the broken
To the heartless, the damaged
To the screamers, the closed off
To the drowners, the dying
To the breathers, the living
To the strong, the weak
To the flimsy, the fragile
To the suicidal, the struggling
To the raging, the bitter
To the sad, the lonely
To the misunderstood, the confused
To the 'why don't you talk,' the 'why don't you shut up?'
To the 'it's all in your head,' the 'It's not important enough'
To the 'stop acting,' the 'stop faking'
To the 'stop being so dramatic,' the 'there are people worse off than you'
To the 'shut up,' the 'you're making no sense'
To the 'I don't understand,' the 'nobody feels this way'
To the 'I can't help you,' the 'get over it'
To the 'you're weird,' the 'this isn't normal'
To the 'go away,' the 'nobody wants you here'
To the 'you break everything you touch,' the 'just die already'
To the 'broken ones,' the 'freaks'
To everyone, to always
To whatever you do, whatever you say
To everything, to everyday
You are not alone.
~ hk

It used to be you and me
Separately, distinctively
Distinguished from others
More than sisters and brothers
More than fathers and mothers
A family of our own
Two of us alone
Facing a world ready
To tear us apart
Separate us
Denigrate us
For loving each other
Choosing one another
instead of acquiescing,
Bowing and scraping
To the rules laid out
By those with the clout
To call us names and scorn
Try to deny we were born
As the people we are.
But, it turns out, so far
We are stronger
And out love lasts longer
From when we had begun
Than those who feel none.
As our love moves along
We have become twice as strong.

My friends and I
are forlorn fabrics
haphazardly stitched into a quilt.

Comprised of different textures and fabrics,
frayed at the ends,
rejected pieces meant for the trash,
not good enough for made-to-wear mall clothes.

My friends and I
fit like a puzzle
consisting of pieces from various other puzzles--
found under coffee tables,
between couch cushions,
tossed into the bowels of forlorn toy bins--
forming a collage of something
disoriented and ambiguous.

Crammed together,
smashing our appendages,
leaving crooked gaps,
wrinkled, torn, ****** up,
but feeling better here
than in our small contribution
to the bland image of our factory's design.

My friends and I,
outcasts, rejects, punks,
convening in the junkyard heap
where we dance and laugh among trash
that makes us feel clean.
Pure when we're filthy.

Quilts and puzzles,
to instill and befuddle;
****** treasures.

We are drowning ships
crashing planes
falling skies

We are tragedies that never got
written
in ink
but blood

We are disasters they forgot
to record
or observe
or announce
or save
or help

We are train wrecks that needed saving
Instead you covered your eyes
Shielded your children
Dumped the wreckage into landfills
That are eating away at our plant

Ours

This world, it is ours
Yours and mine
It is not a kingdom that is your
birthright to take
to force yourself on
your rules
your mistakes
your judgement
your hearts

We are people
Collapsible
Collapsing
At every turn
every word
every day
every breath

We are still people
still alive
still able
still fighting
breathing
belonging to a world that has never accepted us
made space for us
let us belong

But we are belonging

It's funny how nowadays if we see someone we know,

We nod our head up.

And if we see someone we don't know,

We nod our head down.

But when we see ourselves in the mirror,

We don't know what to do.

Shout out to the outcasts
Your individuality will outlast
Shout out to the mediocre ones
You have talent but you don't feel good enough
Stay with it love, develop your craft and grow into the best
Here's to the underdogs,
The ones who feel they don't belong,
And for so long have been hiding away and starting to decay,
Don't settle for the nutshell and say it's just as well,
Rise higher than the tree wild and free,
They don't know who you really are don't let them take it too far,