SketchedExistence

There is no singular face worn by evil; no particular race, gender or creed. Its shape does not necessarily reveal its Mephistophelian nature. While evil can, at times, be easily identified, it can also be so... very... subtle. Insidious. In truth, perhaps the real danger lies in those circumstances where evil cannot be easily labeled or understood. When it can be twisted and forced upon another in a manner that leaves the victim unable to recognize the shadows hiding behind the mask. When one cannot find the assailant- cannot place the fault at the feet of an oppressor due to doubt and/or psychological warfare- we are left shouting into th

Your eyes on me are inescapable. At the moment, the gaze is more inquisitive than judging. I can't help but feel that I'm being visually dissected, the tangled knots of inadequacies, strengths and dreams pried apart until the more tender- fragile- portions of Self are revealed. The analyzing glint in the blue of your irises can be a bitter pill to swallow, at times. I avert my own gaze, in an effort to hide. Your eyes on me have weight today. I stare back, head pounding from a combination of staring at a computer screen far too long and the threat of rain. The bags under your eyes are faintly purple-tinged. I feel weary just looking at you.