My devastation delivered

Unnaturally unique

By my serpent tongue lashings,

A perfected technique.

Each phrase, a draining plague

To bring the world to its knees.

And baptized in pain,

I expected them to bleed.

But each quip drained me,

Weighted down by my sins.

And each draining, damning word

Drove the nails in my coffin.

For el diablo cut the deal,

His promise laced with deceit

And the world refused to bow,

Submissive and weak.

Now, chaos reigns supreme

My destruction, this revolutionary tide,

With the devil whispering in my ear,

"Everybody has a dark side..."

Strut with me on the dark side

     cracks in the sidewalks of soul

     rising yeasted bread in warm oven

     embracing the battles arising

Strut with me on the dark side

     crooked halo slanting

     sunless side of life

     time strikes muted cry

Strut with me on the dark side

     puffed shapeless mushrooms

     smother my echoes

     lost in murky night

Strut with me on the dark side

     drown in depths of starkness

     black holes of despair

     stuffed in envelopes of fog

Strut with me on the dark side

    Look within to find

    darkness buried inside

    unseen side of the moon.

Everyone has a dark side. Some bury it deep beneath their skin in cracking black bottles of anger and pain. Emotions trapped beneath, "I'm fine," beneath the lies. They smile and laugh until the bottles break as rivers of tears or chaotic storms. Or silent as the night, the bottles shatter themselves and watch the crimson run. These are the ones that break. 

Everyone has a dark side. Some use it as a mask. A black shield to hide their pain and wipe the tears away. Cover up the light because they don't want to live up to anyone's expectations and when people see good, they expect good; nothing else will suffice. But deep beneath the tall walls and hard shell is a heart of gold with cracks and scars. A heart that's waiting to be healed. They think it's weak to ask for help. These are the ones who hurt to conceal that they are broken. 

Everyone has a dark side. Some embrace it with an inhuman joy, a psychopathic love of watching others suffers. Of torturing those that hurt them or those that did nothing but good. These are the ones that destroy. The ones that will laugh as the world burns. 

Everyone has a dark side. Some let it out thought fighting or calm. Find healthy ways to let the darkness go so the light can be free. They run to leave frustration behind and find the calm inside the storm of life. The draw to let the pain cover the art in beautiful forms rather then cover their mind in an unending darkness. Theses are the lucky ones. 

Everyone has a dark side but no one is born pure evil for even black holes as born of shining stars. Life can shape us to its design but we're the ones that either choose to let it or make our own path. Everyone has good in them but whilst some snuff it out until only one ember remains, others let it burn until their last remaining day when a supernova bursts away. Both the light and dark are a part of us. We're the ones that decide what that means. Whether we bury and break; shield and hurt; embrace with unnatural cruelty or let the light shine free of the dark burdens and let them burn away... 

Everybody has a dark side buried within them. Most of us fight it; Khan embraced it.

He already had power, being one of the world's first genetically modified super soldier. Unlike the rest of the test subjects, his brain and body accepted the DNA rewriting, making him so powerful it would blow your mind.

But he was like a dog who'd gotten his first taste of blood--he wanted more. The power he had wasn't enough.

He endangered the freedom, and the lives, of the other young men and women who had participated in the same test. He didn't care. Didn't care whether they lived or died, didn't care how many he hurt in the process...

Obviously, Khan couldn't be allowed to run around. So, like the other test subjects, he was taken to a bunker way below the surface, locked into a cell that could withstand a nuclear blast, with another wall outside of that one, and one outside of that. There was a 24 hour guard, and they had the best tech available.

But one night, everything changed.

Khan escaped his cell. The facts aren't clear, but we are lead to believe that he killed several guards. The commander of the facility ordered the backup security system be put in motion--the facility was going to be imploded. 

This was a hard choice for him to make, as his own father--the man who had rewritten Khan's DNA--was in there. But safety came before his own emotions, so the building was imploded.

Khan caused the death of the man who had cared for him since a child. And he didn't care.

Everyone thought Khan had died in the blast. Even the inner walls of his cell had collapsed. Only a huge, smoking crater remained.

And Khan.

The android was making them all uncomfortable with its Zelzer Stiff eyeing them from its hip. It’d only been forty point three seconds since the landmark decision to include artificial humans in the Second Amendment and this son of a manufacturing plant had just walked into the Rig & Rattle with a laspistol holstered, twinkling. Kghoshi—a real bastard on a good day—splashed his drink on silver chestmetal and said, "You packing, tin can?" The bartender—a saint on a bad day—put an arm on the droid: "C'mon, now, let's not do this." The move was registered as an offensive action and the android shot the bartender between his eyebrows. Kghoshi's finger moved a centimeter toward his gun when a second shot put a red dot on his forehead as uniform as urna. The men in the bar leaped to their feet. Offensive actions. The men in the bar toppled over chairs and tables. By the time the android reached the counter, empty now of breathing souls, a feed of reaction times, facial registers, psycho-prints—all pointing to self-defense—had been submitted to local authorities.

No one knew that Clayton had a dark side. When we heard that Clayton had gone missing from his house about a week ago, of course, we were worried. But, when he showed up at our base, we were even more surprised. He told us he had wandered off and gotten lost. Not Clayton. What he did next was terrible. We never thought Clayton had a dark side.

There is a girl that sits on her bed

Tearing out piece's of hair from her head.

And every night before she sleeps

She sews her eyes shut to cease the steady weep.

The weep of emotions that form into tears

The weep of emotions that have followed her for years,

And in each of those years is 365 days

It a wonder she has hair that remains.

The girls name is China and she is a doll

Found so broken and torn she could never be sold.

So they took her into their home

Painted of the cracks and gave her hair a comb.

Little did they know the cracks would reform

Because hidden under the surface is a thunderstorm

And those thunderstorms always find a way,

Of seeping out and ruining each day.

The family just kept fixing her up

As if she'll be okay when they cover it up.

They painted on a mask and gave her a new dress

But those feelings could not be supressed.

Supressed those feelings could not be for they were to deep and dark,

For the family before this one had left quite a mark.

It remains on her porcelain heart leaking a great darkness

All because some people can be cold and heartless.

It was never her fault she felt this way,

All she wanted was for someone to understand her pain.

Yet she stills sits on her bed tearing out her hair

All because her past is too much to bear.

We are all dolls being played with by people,

Some are made of porcelain, others made of metal.

We break sometimes and that's okay,

We just need people to recognise we feel this way.

there are layers in my mind

light

and

dark

an endless spiral staircase of

light

and

dark

passing truth and fiction

on shelves

get to know me?

unlikely

but you can try

go down

layer by layer

light

and

dark

peeling away

but you can't go back

to the light

once you've been

through

light

and

dark

don't listen

to the siren song

the top three dimensions

are lies

woven myths

light

and 

dark

never forget

don't look for the truth

look for the

light

and

dark

you'll always find what you're not looking for

never threaten my love

never look for

my dark side

you don't want to find it

light

and

dark

you won't find it

in the maze

light

and

dark

balance

don't venture into my mind

light

and

dark

there are layers in my mind

light

and

dark

and

light

and

dark

and

light

and

dark

Join the dark side. We have cookies!

Delicious home-baked chocolate chip cookies, made with dark vanilla extract, and bittersweet chips.

You take the dough, and you beat it up a bit. Once all the chocolate chips are evenly distributed, little bits of sweet, sweet bitterness shining through the dough like bruises on pale skin, dish that sucker out. Doesn't matter how much you put anyplace, it's all going to be consumed anyhow.

Now you stick them cookies in the oven. Let them rise slowly in the heat, baking in their anger and resentment, melting that bitterness into gooey deliciousness.

And then let them cool, but not too much! Revenge is a dish best served cold, but cookies are meant to be consume hot, and raw, pleasantly unpleasant with their little specks of bitterness still burning with rage.

Mm, just smell that! Vanilla and bittersweet chocolate, oh my.

Doesn't it smell good??

James Larsen was driving, having just picked up his latest...endeavor.  Wrapped in moving blankets, hands and feet bound with zip ties.  Mouth gagged but not quieted, not yet.

James Larsen knew she would make a great addition to his collection. He would have fun introducing her to his dark side...