I believe that evil comes about when man is hurt
A type of hurt that burrows far beneath the skin
And straight into the heart.
As anyone knows, when a man is cast out
He will do anything to prove himself to those who hate him
Perhaps that is where the greatest of evil men came from
At what point was such a deep hurt cast upon them
That broke them to a point of proving themselves again
From there, that anger would bubble into vengeance
Vengeance to violence, violence to the ends of all those he wished to prove himself to from the beginning.
An evil man is a broken man
Broken from the moment he accepted he would never be held
Accepted he would rather be feared than loved
Because from that same fear, that is where he had found his strength
For that is all he ever knows
Driven on by the coals of his own self deceit
This once broken man stitches the parts of himself together again
And from the ruins of his own soul he pours his cruelty and madness
Madness to force the world to accept him as he creates his own role
Uncaring, he grows numb toward the death
The destruction he causes becomes his creations
Because those who broke him never let him believe
That his hands could ever conjure something great
So he brings his wrath upon them instead
And dies a little more inside every day
Possibly without knowing it any longer
That he became the very thing he hated most
And like any evil man
His actions must be accounted for
Because though he had been broken and battered to the floor
It was he who let himself sink below and let anger fester
Feeding the demons that nipped at his ankles
Perhaps he is as guilty as the doubters of his gifts
Perhaps the world creates these men for a reason
To show the people just how dark it can truly be

There is change that is certain.
The earth slowly shifting,
The sky slowly shifting.
Seven billion universes
Rotating around each of us,
Each one of us an axis.
The recurring misalignment,
Collisions, and revisions of
Our orbiting bodies
Shape the illusion of stability
Hanging from our celestial ceiling.

I did not expect to come home
To an empty house,
My family's effects removed
Like the leftovers of an evicted tenant.
I am a stranger here,
In this room where I became a woman.
This room that exalted and imprisoned me
No longer offers solace.

Litter, that upon closer inspection
Reveals a mosaic of my childhood
Is spinning.
The pieces of my past
Are spinning
Out and away,
Gravitating towards a larger body.

The car I drove to a stranger's house
To get ****** instead of going
To dinner with my family
Now belongs to another.
The dresser that kept my underwear
In the top drawer
For twenty years
Discarded and lain in the gutter.
The walls which I painted
The most neon shade of green
In an act of adolescent rebellion
Are now covered over
In rental home white
To attract the widest audience
Of potential tenants.

The floor is slipping out from beneath me,
The ceiling lifting and floating away.
New additions to my orbital debris.

This place,
Disassembled.
Each part
Far more significant than the whole.
This house
Will never again be a home.
If I had stayed,
Would the gravity of my presence
Have been enough to keep it together?

Were any of these parts
Part of my universe in the first place?

It begins with a very few words, but an array of emotions.
Its unspoken feelings,
Its the misalignment of words,
My head is underwater but I somehow enjoy the feeling of suffocation,
Submerged in my own thoughts,
I am slowly drowning,
Not a slight quiver with the sound of rippling waters,
I don't hear a sound above,
Above,.. where its all rustles and rambles of reality,
I feel safe underwater,
Often, I hear the whispers of doubt in my ear,
My head and heart has been detached for so long,
I'd forgotten the weight that it carried,
I feel lighter underwater,
Let me have a few moments more,
I don't mind the taste of salt in my mouth than to hear the lies you tell to comfort me,
I think this life finally belongs to me,
As i watch the sky above me, and feel the water beneath me,
I am one step closer to healing,
I have suffered a hundred seconds trying to appreciate a moment.
But for now,
After a very long time, I finally feel happy.
Truly happy.

The misalignment of veins in my mind—
Its unsettling ominousness
Taints like a spilt coffee on white cloth—
A disgrace to my well-being!

The distant touches of my fingers
Leave fractured sensations in me,
Only on your command can tether
This upset equilibrium.

The depravity of will and thoughts
Born from its barren womb;
Whales swim in the sky, birds in the sea
How nurtured you are in me!

Sometimes the skies aren't bright,
And things seem not alright,
The misalignment of the stars,
And success held behind bars;

Then the sun shines again,
And we're not reminded of our pain,
Glory to the heavens!
For the renewal of the seasons!

especially the mornings,
i need not tell you really,
you must know.

ok if there is no rush to go,
easy, cosy up and write.

i think they change the clocks
soon, throwing all into
misalignment, it is not
supposed to, yet remains
a mystery to me. we talk
about the war and daylight saving.

walking to school in the mist,
uniform,, and there
is another story.

it is darker here this morning.



sbm.

our love story was hardly one worth telling let alone one for the screens,
peoples eyes ticking over with boredom as we explain that we were not
brought together by a miraculous act of fate, just lazily made our way into each other’s lives. yet we loved like the actors and actresses in the best selling romance films and we gave everything but i suppose regardless of a sinking ship or fatal car crash or simple misalignment of the stars we just weren’t mean to be.

it hurts

no grand act of betrayal
but the magnitude of minor slices to my heart
found in the lacking of affection

claims of love
feel unbelievable
when overshadowed by actions of doubt

i fear to let go
but fall into the pit of comparison

the past has its claws deeply implanted
into my flesh
not deep enough to bring my end
but only enough to regularly deface my heart

torn
tattered

i forget what i want
but crave that which is lost

rational thoughts plagues my mind
how i attempt to dismiss it
when overwhelming me with the reminder
that the sacred times will never return

I always find myself getting caught in the misalignment of your teeth, tripping over the angles of your smile and drowning in the sound of your voice telling me stories about the place you grew up. The sound of your voice carries the same comforting familiarity that a child feels when they notice that the clouds never cease to leave their side on a long car ride. What you don't see is that I am merely a cloud of stardust floating like the smoke of an exhaled cigarette and you are a whole universe that I could get irrevocably lost in. Except I hope I'm not like nicotine to you, because love isn't about addiction or obsession it's about comfort and just like how I never forget to lock my door at night because I feel safer with a tiny piece of metal separating the outside from me, I feel so safe in your arms even though they're merely just pieces of flesh.

to poison the mind;
with no actual poison
but the mere thought of.
-
to poison the heart;
to plant seeds that may harvest if the air is clear enough
for 1 minute space in time,
to break the chain of misalignment
where the skies are dark
without elements to fill a certain form.
-
faith wavers,
consistency is misplaced,
integrity & discipline
are lost,
still finding way beneath disgrace
through generations
of conveniently consuming creation.

Minutes pass day by day but the same thing remains.  Inner demons tearing the seams of the soul wailing for a chance to be heard. Forced smiles, false laughs, masks painted by the banshees themselves unrecognizable to the viewers eye. The appearance from the eyes looks like summer but feels like the frost from the winter. The words sound of clarity from the rains of spring but represent a dryness from fall. Misalignment, dis-alignment, nothing of the sort to be let known for the fear of disappointment. Not for yourself but for others. Not to be seen for the unspoken truth of not being good enough for the world that took you under its wing against your will. Degraded, suppressed, all worth striped of meaning for those exact reasons that you hide your face in crowds so no one can see the Unbearing truth of reality. It gets worse and worse each day you hear the lie from his lips which only ends in more places to apply your makeup. The shame beats down on you like a blistering flame after its wrath has been contained for too long that you believe the spitting so called "truth" being fed to you on a shinning silver platter. How long do you have til those demons unravel the unseen beauty that nests somewhere unknown? I'm counting down each minute that passes during each day to the final place where your mask can be shed and your worth can be defined.

What is it you see when you look in the mirror everyday
Are you looking for something that should be there, or is it staring you in the face
Deep down we all know that we’re always creating something out of nothing
Giving life to an illusion, creating a seperate reality
I suppose that’s how we survive
Each and every one of us so sure of our own realness
Or maybe, we’re so sure of our illusions
that we’ve forgotten what’s real and what’s not
It’s easier that way, for some, for most
We spend our time crafting our identities,
however illusionary, however far fetched, however unbelievable
And that biological puppet we’ve been stringed up to is more real than flesh and bone
Because the faces that we see are not our own
They’re an invention, a facade, a defense mechanism
I think that in the quiet moments we don’t really like ourselves, our real selves
That’s just too much reality, too much truth to handle
It’s like removing your make up, getting undressed and going out into a crowd
Bare faced and naked with nothing to hide behind
Letting strangers inspect every crevice, every flaw, every thing
So we pump ourselves full of chemicals
Fill our veins with mindless entertainment
Just to hush the voices
All in the hopes of forgetting
Forgetting that it’s more than just bodies spinning around, going through the motions
It’s about maintaining the misalignment of nerves and the misfiring synapses
So that even if you wanted to, you would never know which side of the fence you were on
You’re lucky if you find yourself in the shade
But if you happen to be in the path of a hurricane, I guess you wouldn’t any better
All those bruises and scars will seem like they were meant to be
And in time, your broken heart will heal, just not in the way you thought it would
And you’ll question everything
You’ll question your father, your mother, your lover, your God
Because you know that branches and debris alone can’t do so much damage
Was man supposed to love so much that it hurt?
I guess yeah, but not in the way that love was meant to be felt
Who knows how we’re meant to love
If you’ve never been in a gunfight, how would you know what I was talking about
And yet, we all talk
We talk like we know what we’re talking about
But no one seems to talk about the important things, like time and death
They bring life to the things that are worth knowing
Just look into the eyes of everyone around you
Forget other people, look into the mirror at yourself
When it comes time to go, everyone welcomes it
We finally realise and accept how easy it is
Or maybe we’re just grew weary of pretending
Because in the end, it’s refreshing to know you don’t have to hold on so tight
Letting go is accepting that your dreams; both good and bad, are just memories
Memories made of moments you keep locked up in your mind
Moments where you dream of what you should be, what you could be, what you’re not
And like all dreams, there’s a monster at the end of the hallway
But unlike all dreams, you don’t always wake up.

I've often found
That love is bound
To illusion and misconception.
Of who I am,
And who you are,
Fulfilling our minds reflections.
This and that
Will not exist
Without our own involvement.
Our hearts will break
Tearing apart
From internal misalignment.
Find your north,
Tune your fork,
Towards truths frequency,
It may spin
And twist alike
Pointing back towards me.
Either way, gravity
Will fall tremendously,
Exposing all, in their truth
And frequency attuned.

i am travelling to the end of the world

with you.



all.



unless we stop to

start again.



unless we travel more careful



we shall see

blackened lakes.



kissing the ancestors, hugging the memories presently.



now



the will of the people over rides that of the mystery.



throwing all into
misalignment.

Two answers
Extinction or reason
Harsh distinction
Humanity's treason
Are our lives unique
Among hundreds and billions?
Why do we control nature
By separating ourselves?
Endless, friendless
Evolving to get less
Age is no refinement
Inside is misalignment
Questions not solved by assignments
We live through confinement
Enhancers of cancer
Dancers and prancers
Funds without a financer