I know
the nature of Evil — 

Evil capitalized, Evil as a 
unifying force, Evil not as cartoon cackle

stifled in polite company
but as policy and practice

stiffly written on solid legal
ground and traditional paper —

I know the nature of Evil
due to its presence

in my raising, my ordinary male-raising
that weaponized dense old parts of my soul

which I keep trying to change or crush away 
to no apparent effect since too often

it pushes through and then I lie awake
examining myself until I shake

from knowing how much
I’ve sparked to happen through the clumsy

and sometimes unconscious use of my Evil —
I know enough of Evil to shudder

whenever I meet another 
who reminds me of myself,

whenever I am drawn to their heat
by our common likes and dislikes,

whenever I meet someone
I am drawn to for their refreshing lack

of fucks given
for the sensibilities of others, their

overripe post-adolescent reliance
on just past prime slang and ironic slant

on the nature of the Evil they do
in all seeming innocence,

claiming the right to freedom
trumps the responsibility 

to do as little harm as possible
while living as harmfully as we do,

as I do — I know
the nature of Evil

due to having been
a lifelong carrier,

a candle that reveals
how deep the darkness has become,

and I fear that my choices now
are to continue as this

until I burn at last away,
with the last of my flame

climbing a wispy column
toward unreachable heights;

to end it now and snuff
my candle cold; or 

to find a firestorm against Evil somewhere
and add myself to it; then

(if I am not consumed there)
to come back as something

not myself, something I fear, something
I do not know how to be.