Cursed Geometry?

Warning: some of these images really disturb me. No actual violence is depicted, but they’re disturbing symbols. This post is really just a rebus thread representing my train of thought.

I was at my job, and came across the unicursal hexagram on an artwork on one of the walls. I was surprised, as it’s an occult symbol, and my first thought was Lucifer’s Sigil.

Which it resembles, certainly.

Spanish penitents, capirote

Capirote and kids
Early KKK

The Wound

The beginning wasn’t a beginning, it was an ending; just an endless circle. It was complete, nothing needed to happen.

Something did happen. What was it, the moment in the everything, the potential, that kicked over, infinite space, folded in on itself, creating a change, beginning time?

Time began when space was divisible into “is”and “is not.” Was it a sin, or a delusion, or an illusion? They’re all the same.

Needless to say, it hurt. We still hear that scream every day, every night, throughout eternity. In our head, it’s a high pitched whine, around 1600 Hz. It’s the sound of time, of incompleteness, of an aching need for something that we can’t even name.

We think we’ll find something to salve this burn, but we never do. It just festers and rots. Then we think that if we find another who hurts like we do, it won’t hurt so bad. But ultimately, there have never been any like us, so we go on limping, alone.

Still we hope. We search. We inquire. We persist. One day we’ll find him, or her, or them, and we’ll all speak our truth to each other, and we’ll have found the words that bring us back into our circle. We’ll be one again.

Time will cease, and we’ll rotate on our axis, harmonious and lovely, we’ll orbit.

Assistant Manager

You claim the right in

Singling me out as if

You’d benefitted me.

Ridiculous and

Self serving, you pompous and

Pious prick. How much

Evil you have put

On me, I cannot even

Count. You have your charts,

Bureaucratic slop,

And you expect to define

My life in such small

Meaningless terms. Now

You’re so sorry and you want

To make it up to

Me. You’re a fucking

Liar, and now you want to

Take my career from

Me. I’ll keep you in

A courtroom while I’m making

A mint. You’re out the

Door from your job, you’ll

Wish you’d never heard my name.

I’ll kill you by a

Thousand tiny cuts

And laugh as you bleed out, just

Like you did to me.

Unreal Torments

You needn’t trifle

With that which means nothing. You

Thought necessary

To vent your spleen as

If it meant anything but

You and I know the

Truth. They can’t hurt you.

You only hurt yourself, now

And again, again.

You must realize that

It’s all for naught, because they

Are merely shades, the

Shadows in your mind.

Attend to me, and I will

Be reality.