Architect of Harm

The writing uses metaphors and archetypes throughout.

It is not autobiographical, nor is it about any specific person.

It explores a pattern of the quiet architecture of harm through imagery, innuendo, and symbolic language.

This is not a personal confession or a portrait of anyone in my life.

It is an exploration of a type the blueprint of harm as it appears across many stories, many eras, many rooms.

The “architect” is an archetype, not an individual.

Disclaimer: This piece is not about me or any specific person. It uses metaphor to explore a universal pattern of harm.

Even without names, people can still understand stories.

You have met the type before the person who builds chaos with a smile, who hides harm behind charm, who leaves a trail of confusion and calls it coincidence.

This piece is not about one individual.

It is about the pattern.

The blueprint.

The architecture of people who damage others while pretending they are the hero of the room.

I wrote this for anyone who has ever felt the sting of someone else’s quiet sabotage, the kind that slips in sideways and pretends to be concern.

It’s a story told in metaphor and shadow, because sometimes the truth lands better when it’s wrapped in imagery instead of accusation.

If you have ever questioned how harm is created, it's often not through dramatic actions, but rather through a series of subtle, deliberate decisions, this serves as the guide.

Poetic Indictment of the Devourer

A single petal drifts to the floor,

soft as a whisper, heavy as a verdict.

A tear breaks open the earth,

and the ground remembers every silence

it was forced to swallow.

From the ruins rises the Devourer

a silhouette carved from hunger,

a sovereign of nothingness

wrapped in the illusion of light.

He builds his throne from stolen trust,

mortars it with fear,

crowns himself with the trembling loyalty

of those he has deceived.

His kingdom glitters like gold

but rings hollow when touched.

A façade polished by worship,

a monument to the emptiness

that pulses where a soul should be.

And still, the petals fall.

And still, the tears carve rivers.

And still, the truth gathers strength

in the quiet places he cannot reach.

Detective Monologue Confronting Architecture

I stepped into the chamber of the Architecture,

and the air shifted as if the structure itself

recognized me.

“You built this,” I said.

“Not with hands, but with hunger.”

The walls flickered with diagrams

not of bodies, but of systems.

Not of victims, but of access.

Not of violence, but of control.

“You don’t hunt the vulnerable,” I said.

“You build the world that delivers them to you.”

The Architecture pulsed,

as if proud of its design.

“You weaponize belief.

You weaponize authority.

You weaponize the illusion of safety.”

I traced a line across the blueprint,

a fault line running straight through the Devourer’s empire.

“You don’t rise because you’re powerful.

You rise because the world is trained

to kneel before the mask you wear.”

The vortex behind the silhouette trembled,

a ripple of truth cutting through the façade.

“You are not a god,” I said.

“You are a vacancy wearing a crown.”

The Architecture shuddered.

The first fracture appeared.

And I knew the collapse had already begun.

Prose Poetry: The Threshold

The world pretends not to see the fracture,

but the fracture sees everything.

It runs beneath the marble,

beneath the gold,

beneath the polished faces of those who swear

they are made of light.

I walk the line where the blueprint buckles.

The air hums with the memory of what was taken,

what was silenced,

what was swallowed whole by the Devourer’s hunger.

Every step is a question.

Every breath is a reckoning.

Every shadow is a witness.

The architecture trembles when I speak its name.

Not because it fears me,

but because it knows I see it—

the real structure,

the hidden scaffolding,

the machinery of harm disguised as holiness.

And once something is seen,

it can never return to the dark.

created, written, edited by

Vicki Lawana Trusselli

Trusselli Art

Outstages Cafe Art Studio

California

copyright 2026