Last Impressions.

When I first observed your shifty ways,
I glimpsed a foggy, underlying haze;
What is essential remained forever vague,
What was potential went black as plague;
Always heard it within your loud tendencies,
Your repeatedly blatant discrepancies,
Big stories, loud T-shirts and MP3s,
Oozing broken deficiencies,
Your endless supply of one-liner quips,
The total lack of any intact etiquette,
Your falsified versions of all kinds of shit,
How I wish that I never heard any of it;
Because now it’s a puzzle that boggles my brain,
How I bought such a lie sold by the insane,
I cringe at the close shave of taking that name,
From a dirty player playing in a filthy game;
With your perpetual spouting of little known facts,
The effectual role-play of good and kind acts,
A contextual manipulation that deviates from fact,
A perpetual accumulation of memories you’ve hacked
There was a gnawing feeling that I ignored,
Put to the side of who I thought I adored,
I forfeit a wager that I couldn’t afford,
I stupidly missed the big, bold underscore;
Despite your perceptions and points of view,
Your recollections are historically skewed,
With so many imperfections ever seeping through,
I should have spotted early on: the ugliness in you;
It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself to justify,
The bigger picture painted is a tainted, ugly lie,
The glory fizzled out then shriveled up and died,
Left it on the curb with your sulfuric sense of pride.
But you made it so simpler to strap up my boots,
To finally stamp out embers and sweep out the soot,
I won’t remember much of some thieving crook,
Or the irreplaceable piece of equipment he took.

Stolen Smiles.

I bet you think,
that you got me,
you think,
some rinky-dink,
cheap hoodwink,
can shock me?
You need to,
see a shrink,
exclusively,
immediately,
can you say,
“shock therapy”?
You like to think,
your shit don’t stink,
stupidly,
not shocking,
You think you’re,
the only geek,
with a nod and wink,
who’s rocking?
You think like,
a cracked-out tweak,
on a shopping spree,
heart stopping,
shit talking,
You think a,
decryption key,
means shit to me?
unlocking,
You think it,
doesn’t wreak,
of thievery,
such mockery,
call blocking,
You think you’re,
the only freak,
the only skumbag thief,
who’s stalked me?
You think,
the doublespeak,
the hyperlinks,
the subtleties,
cock-blocking,
You think me,
mild and meek,
words I speak,
empty miscellany,
just squawking,
You think you,
can hinder me,
in my stepping,
or render me,
unsuspecting,
of your indecency,
insolently,
emptily,
keep thinking,
keep trying,
quit weaseling,
quit lying,
You’re unforgiven,
how unforeseen,
was the dying,
of a beloved king,
the defying of,
defaming of,
decomposing of,
love’s creamy dreams,
reinforcing of,
sharpened,
hardened,
darkened things,
broken wings,
Screams curdling,
frozen hearted,
cement-shoed,
bound to settle in,
down you go again,
unthinkably,
unspeakably,
Reactively,
you’re scaly,
snakeskinny,
filthy to your DNA,
How ya like me now?
Please sink and drown,
Or swim away,
into yesterday,
on your back belly up,
Contentedly,
Complacently,
Away from me,
I’ll steal
what’s left of,
your smile,
while you cry,
like a child in your sleep.





Stay Up On Your Feet.

People say things easily.
Mostly, being insincere.
They strive to weasel into your life and prove something to themselves.
Something rotten and reminiscent of toxic spores. They aim to break the strength they see in you, to make the beautiful into the hideous.
They want to see you cry and beg.
They aim to show you new lows.
They aim to make you alone.
They aim to silently poison your table of knights one by one.
They feign love.
They indignify truth through their very existences.
These people want to be a victim, always; unable to endure what doesn’t fit into a pre-self-determined reality that’s far from being real.
People like this can’t (won’t/don’t) help themselves from being the epitome of protervity and narcissism.
It’s often quite easy to glimpse the actual pig’s (from the state of perpetual pig-headedness of such people) features at times, if you concentrate long enough on their’ faces.
These people are truly hopeless, and entangling yourself with one of them will inarguably take years off of your life.
People need to sleep at night (well, most people, at least) and throughout their’ lives, have honed the art of achieving said sleep by any and all means necessary.
It doesn’t matter who they have to steal from, lie to or cheat on.
Most people are either like puppets or puppeteers.
They can be dragged around by a string and made to do another’s bidding – to be the butt of another’s constant stream of jokes and gags and be kept in a box out of sight, some asshole’s means of venting his subliminal machinations; or they can be the one dragging the strings and throwing their’ voices, the people harboring silently forlorn grudges against all of humanity.
People who feel it necessary to repeatedly outline the purity and righteousness of the lives they lead might as well wear a t-shirt that reads:
“Hey. I’m a fucking Fatmouth. Don’t believe a word I tell you about myself. I’m worth more dead.”
These are the same people who know – deep down – that not a decent individual in the world holds any sentiment in his/her direction, not even mom or dad, usually. Grandma even disowned these people, even, in her own heart.
These are the people who vampire your cha-cha and exhaust you in totality.
Don’t let this brand of evil wash out your colors and make you feel like a faded version of yourself.
These are the people you exchange faked smiles with anytime you meet eachother.
Try to keep those meetings at a minimum.

Charlatanical.

Shitty tattoos,
Absent front tooth,
Alcohol infused,
Jaw flapping,
Knuckles rapping,
Air leaking through,
Big brown eyes,
Telling nonstop lies,
You’re fucking high,
Unclean,
Unforeseen,
Not enough miles between,
That stinky lifestyle,
The steaming shitpile,
Rusted turnstiles,
Nothing worthwhile,
I lost too,
Much to you,
It’s all bled through,
The truth,
Fire country,
Attention hungry,
Back full of monkeys,
There’s no saving you,
You’re too far beyond,
Slithering, And talking long,
There’s no fixing you,
You built a filthy empire,
Of stolen shit like copper wire,
Look around you everywhere,
Noone is standing there,
Nobody wants to associate,
With your town’s smartest primate,
Give me what’s mine,
Cross back over that line,
Just one last time,
And hand it back at last,
You’ve showed your ass,
To a piece of your past,
That you let slip from your hand,
I hope you do understand,
I’m a lamb,
You’re no man,
Just sit down and realize,
Conceptualize,
Perpetulize,
The demolition of facades,
Crumbling,
Numbing,
Stumbling along,
You’ve predicted all wrong,
It’s all gone,
Non-materialized
Bad breath,
Rotting death,
Inside decayed,
Like words you’ve said,
Like lives you’ve led,
Into the flames of Hell,
I recall well,
And time will tell,
Your tongue will burn,
With lessons learned,
Too late,
Too low,
And now you know,
Your blade never sliced into me,
The games that you play,
Didn’t defeat me,
I’m standing tall,
And fine, overall,
It’s the likes of you, afterall, Who will inevitability crawl.

Like The Day Is Long.

If I could bottle my own motivations,
And drop that bottle into the open void,
If I could paint a scene of my own salvation,
And have it hand delivered by the one decoyed;

If I could wrap my severed hands in an icebox,
Mail them across the seas to my partner in crime,
If I could say blessings over freckles and dreadlocks,
If I could throw you a party with silent mimes;

If I could will myself to feel your presence now,
If my strength held up even halfway to your own,
If I I could let you lick my wounds somehow,
If I could warm my soul at your hearthstone;

If I could articulate the growing hole in my heart,
If I could lift the fog from the inky moors of my mind,
If I could capitulate to the the cold and dark,
If I could sift the bog for my lost days’ worth of time;

If I could bake you an edible birthday cake,
If I could share your laughter on the windswept shore,
If I could be enlightened by the time it’d take,
If I could swear not to care anymore;

If I could write down all the ways I adore you,
If I could stay on pitch and sing you a song,
If I could bite down on any hand that’s hurt you,
If I could, I would; like the day is long.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM
(The Bear Trainer)

https://amalijaamalie.wordpress.com/


❤ From your ever-faithful sidekick.

A Term Used Too Loosely .

Trust is a concept not wholly foreign to me,

though I can’t say I’ve known its full capacity,

I have no logical reason to trust anybody,

the truth shows how folks aren’t so trustworthy;

I was good ‘n fucked up before turning age twenty-three,

I was still desperately hungry for compatibility,

I was open to the notion of such vulnerability,

but, I was lucky to survive such young naivety;

“Relationships” are only hazy mirrors with smoke screens,

Kindnesses and considerations attached to puppet strings,

A song and dance deliverance that molds every human being,

A long, enhanced belligerence that ruins everything;

Dragges away from yesterday,

kicking and screaming,

Have to portray that I’m fine this way,

like my mind’s not smoldering,

And pass the wait in the sullen state,

of accepting ugly things,

cast the fate beneath the sinking weight,

that’s perpetually burdening.

Aftertaste.

Here it is:

 

The truth is never kind, remember?

What’s kind is rarely true.

You taught me that.

It was a lesson that actually sunk in, too.

Now it’s part of me.

So I guess you are too.

But, just not in a good way.

I was very upset for like a half hour this morning; after tasting the semi-familiar flavor of your words and how you use them.

I used to be so impressed by your wordsmithing; you know it’s true.

Today’s flavor, however, left a wretched, bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

After actually looking at your face again for the first time in over a year, it’s strange to me.

The vague and foreign-feeling man I see is a stranger.

There’s no stirring in my guts of those long gone butterflies.

There’s no emotional spark up my spine.

A smile no longer reflexively cracks across my face upon seeing yours.

Today, I realized I’ve really made a big mistake.

I was always in my own right to hate you – who you are.

Lately, the way I have been feeling so confusedly heartbroken over you again like it’s a fresh slight.

It’s like I stepped out of a time machine and am lagging in past circumstances while the rest of the world has gone on without me.

So I went back over things associated with the period of time from which I dissociated and checked out – specifically, things attached to you and me.

I learned that my alter ego dealt with you swiftly and coolly, as was only appropriate at the time.

Given how I had somehow managed to completely block out all the low-blows and cold-hearted actions on your part during that time-frame (not to mention all the venomous things you spewed at me non-stop while my Mom was newly diagnosed and dying), it’s a miracle I ever began to tolerate your presence in the Universe again at all, in any context.

I look in my settings on different websites to find your username and old IP Address on the blacklists everywhere.

Upon re-familiarizing myself with the sticky cobwebs, ghostly threats and promises of it all (and I do mean ALL of it), my mind became better able to recall the better portion of everything:

√ My desperation to shake you off my leg,

√ My feelings of suffocation and my anxious state of mind,

√ My fear of the overwhelming weight of it all,

√ Your incessant neediness and misdirected anger,

It was not “love”…it was not “love” at all…

It was just another missing chunk of time from my life that some buzzing sound in the back of my head tries to embed as having been “love”, historically.

Because, my brain needs to feel as if it has been “loved”, known “love”…actually felt “love” somewhere in those missing chunks of time, by someone.

It didn’t have to be you.

If it wasn’t you, it’d been the next guy down the line.

So it’s true: You are nothing special and neither am I.

WE are nothing and never were and I see that now and agree with you.

Kidding ourselves…

Not cut out to take a stroll through a park together.

Doomed from the gate.

Aye.

 

Fool The World.

Who do you think you are?
…to tell me anything of my success (or lack thereof) in climbing out of my own very personal Hell to face the world on my own two feet, without the shelter of duplicity; when that girl you used to think you knew has been dead and buried for 27 cold months, without your having the slightest clue of that fact…like you’ve been here…ever…like you can even begin to count my sorrows on your ten arthritic fingers…like you can even begin to fathom the hem of my garment…like you can ever say that you “know” me or anything that I am or am not. Who do think you are to pass your own pompously final judgment on what kind of thing I can or cannot be? Who the fuck are you to render me unworthy of walking in your park? Who do you think you are to attempt to make me feel “loved” and “appreciated” by sending me boxes full of my sledgehammered heart’s dusty remains…with a grenade pin at the very bottom. Who do you think you are to poke my unhealed wounds? Do you think you are something special now, after all is finally said, and, I unquestionably know how little I ever meant to both air holes on either side of your neck, despite the sweet nothings blowing out of each one? Who do you think you are to tell me that I’ve won…won at a game that I never wanted to play…that I’ve won, when it feels like sheer nothingness…
Your meager attempts at life have always earned you too much of a harvest with little effort put forth…so self-absorbed and incompetent at being the things you try so hard to portray…
But that’s all you are…is a portrayal on screen.
You’re image is grainy and you’re faded beyond recognition, you always were.


Really, who do you think you are?…to burrow yourself into my soils and explode like nuclear fission beneath the roots of my stunted trees? You hold no sway over me, you can’t hold the tethers that string to my blackened, squelching heart…you can’t hold the tethers that string to that cavernous pit in your own chest where a heart should be…who do you think you are, anyway…to surprise me with such a heinous and poisonous truth behind your essence…to release the toxic particulate of your explosive insecurities into my atmosphere…raining down your ice cold rivulets of self-loathing from the skies above my fugue. Who you are to the rest of world, the world you try so tirelessly to fool, the one all around you – you are what you are…but just who do you think that broken thing is? You ooze brokenness…despite your self exonerating conceit…
I know who you think you are…and let me tell you that it actually coincides with who I once thought you were, the similarities are uncanny…but the lights go out over the memory of all that. The lights go out behind the curtains of your fucking languish…and evermore, phantoms of your gains and losses will trickle through your simple brain and leave a stain across your nose. You clean up nicely though, and need not worry about the soul you’ve sold to fool the world.

Came and Gone.

Her back knows the door all too well.

“I needed you to be real.” She says
<absently>

“I’ll have to write down all the ways you’ve betrayed me;
my memory doesn’t work so well, especially when I am caught up.. ”

She’s thinking…
(a decisive stare)

“How can you look yourself in the mirror?…lying like you do;
I don’t need this shit right now
I shouldn’t be here!”

He asks…
<matter-of-factly>

“Does the rain bleed sideways always?  Or does it come in sporadic torrents spurting out
covering everything like a permanent stain?”

His self-absorption is tangible; he continues…
(A hollow stare)

“I knew where you were the whole time, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait, I had things to do – with or without you…”

He stops speaking
<ponderously>
Then he adds
“I’m a hollow man, what can I say?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again it’s almost comical”

Bemused he says:

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your poses. You can either look like something isvcoming around the corner at youvor you can look like you have beheld the Gods…although none of that matters, you’re dust in the wind to me.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She sobs
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll die now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me sometimes I feel like I’m an actress in my very own horror flick. I watch the scenes go by indifferently perhaps if I got the cobwebs out I’d be able to see things more clearly;
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose that of an abandoned orphan)

He laughs inside.
He says
(insincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then he says
(Wickedly)

“Although, I must say, blue would really bring out your intense sadness;
he wonders…
“will she believe my horseshit? If she’s gullible enough, shall I tell her I will be betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away until she works through her shit? Should I take the leap and claim that I will be around ‘permanently’?”

She smirks
(jadedly)

“The world is ending as you speak. You know, usually
I play those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)
“…you know I simply spend a fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

He replies
<dramatically>

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

He leans in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the truths have
transformed, they are so harsh, that they’re hard not to recognize.”

He leans away
<permanently>

“Are they not?”
He sniffs
<pompously>

I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
<bitterly>

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit for your perseverance in haunting my life, miserable as it is…you get the gold star award ⭐ for shallowness and cruelty. You think you’re so high and mighty but you’re closer and closer to being nothing at all in my heart or mind…”
She shakes her head
<wearily>

Christ is it time already?

“I gotta get outta here. This is not the best place on most days.
It clouds my judgment.
It needs replacing,
This place, it’s cracked and warping.”

He rises
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure I have you so pumped full of hatred next time you come and go.
I found the machismo inside of myself to assure that you will quite vividly recall, by my insolently reminding you through my soulless actions, the poking of your bear by a legend such as myself. God you’re lucky to have known me in your life, you have no clue how awesome I am. Will you do me a huge favor?”

He asks
(Childishly)

“Sure”
she says, rising
(Hatred imperceptible)

He puts his dog’s hands on her small frame;
looking at her
<dolefully>

He whispers
<emptily>

“Just remember I meant none of it when I said ‘come and go’
as you please” when I said that you can use my place whenever you need it…
I know you’ll be sure to keep holding on to this promise all your days in utter vain. You happen to be quite masterful at that.  And don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out you know, for you.”

She smiles tightly
(so anxious)

Glances a chop to his croaky throat turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know. I’m always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up. I got your “come and go”right here!”

She makes a hip pumping motion that translates into sex.
<Angrily. Passionately>

“But you know where it is.”
She shakes her again as she permanently exits this place, his life.
<sadly>

As the door closes behind her

He thinks,
(Comfortably)

“Not really. But I am lying,
I am lying.”

Her back knows the door all too well.

“I needed you to be real.” She says
<absently>

“I’ll have to write down all the ways you’ve betrayed me;
my memory doesn’t work so well, especially when I am caught up.. ”

She’s thinking…
(a decisive stare)

“How can you look yourself in the mirror?…lying like you did;
I don’t need this shit right now
I shouldn’t be here!”

He asks…
<matter-of-factly>

“Does the rain bleed sideways always?  Or does it come in sporadic torrents spurting out
covering everything like a permanent stain?”

His self-absorption is tangible; he continues…
(A hollow stare)

“I knew where you were the whole time, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait, I had things to do – with or without you…”

He stops speaking
<ponderously>
Then he adds
“I’m a hollow man, what can I say?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again it’s almost comical.  I can’t wait until the coffee is so strong that it sends her into a tailspin for once.  Just once…”

Bemused he says:

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your poses. You can either look like something isvcoming around the corner at youvor you can look like you have beheld the Gods…although none of that matters, you’re dust in the wind to me.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She sobs
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll die now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me sometimes I feel like I’m an actress in my very own horror flick. I watch the scenes go by indifferently perhaps if I got the cobwebs out I’d be able to see things more clearly;
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose that of an abandoned orphan)

He laughs inside.
He says
(insincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then he says
(Wickedly)

“Although, I must say, blue would really bring out your intense sadness;
he wonders…
“will she believe my horseshit? If she’s gullible enough, will you tell her I will be betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away until she works through her shit? I will be around permanently.”

She smirks
(jadedly)

“The world is ending as you speak. You know, usually
she plays those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)
“…you know I simply spend a fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

He replies
<dramatically>

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

He leans in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the truths have
transformed, they are so harsh, that they’re hard not to recognize.”

He leans away
<permanently>

“Are they not?”
He sniffs
<pompously>

I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
<bitterly>

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit for your perseverance in haunting my life, miserable as it is…you get the gold star award ⭐ for shallowness and cruelty. You think you’re so high and mighty but you’re closer and closer to being nothing at all in my heart or mind…”
She shakes her head
<wearily>

Christ is it time already?

“I gotta get outta here. This is not the best place on most days.
It clouds my judgment.
It needs replacing,
This place, it’s cracked and warping.”

He rises
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure I have you so pumped full of hatred next time you come and go.
I found the machismo inside of myself to assure that you will quite vividly recall, by my insolently reminding you through my soulless actions, the poking of your bear by a legend such as myself. God you’re lucky to have known me in your life, you have no clue how awesome I am. Will you do me a huge favor?”

He asks
(Childishly)

“Sure”
she says, rising
(Hatred imperceptible)

He puts his dog’s hands on her small frame;
looking at her
<dolefully>

He whispers
<emptily>

“Just remember I meant none of it when I said ‘come and go’
as you please” when I said that you can use my place whenever you need it…
I know you’ll be sure to keep holding on to this promise all your days in utter vain. You happen to be quite masterful at that.  And don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out you know, for you.”

She smiles tightly
(so anxious)

Glances a chop to his croaky throat turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know. I’m always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up. I got your “come and go”right here!”

She makes a hip pumping motion that translates into sex.
<Angrily. Passionately>

“But you know where it is.”
She shakes her again as she permanently exits this place, his life.
<sadly>

As the door closes behind her

He thinks,
(Comfortably)

“Not really. But I am lying,
I am lying.”

Her back knows the door all too well.

“I needed you to be real.” She says
<absently>

“I’ll have to write down all the ways you’ve betrayed me;
my memory doesn’t work so well, especially when I am caught up.. ”

She’s thinking…
(a decisive stare)

“How can you look yourself in the mirror?…lying like you did;
I don’t need this shit right now
I shouldn’t be here!”

He asks…
<matter-of-factly>

“Does the rain bleed sideways always?  Or does it come in sporadic torrents spurting out
covering everything like a permanent stain?”

His self-absorption is tangible; he continues…
(A hollow stare)

“I knew where you were the whole time, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait, I had things to do – with or without you…”

He stops speaking
<ponderously>
Then he adds
“I’m a hollow man, what can I say?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again it’s almost comical.  I can’t wait until the coffee is so strong that it sends her into a tailspin for once.  Just once…”

Bemused he says:

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your poses. You can either look like something isvcoming around the corner at youvor you can look like you have beheld the Gods…although none of that matters, you’re dust in the wind to me.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She sobs
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll die now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me sometimes I feel like I’m an actress in my very own horror flick. I watch the scenes go by indifferently perhaps if I got the cobwebs out I’d be able to see things more clearly;
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose that of an abandoned orphan)

He laughs inside.
He says
(insincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then he says
(Wickedly)

“Although, I must say, blue would really bring out your intense sadness;
he wonders…
“will she believe my horseshit? If she’s gullible enough, will you tell her I will be betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away until she works through her shit? I will be around permanently.”

She smirks
(jadedly)

“The world is ending as you speak. You know, usually
she plays those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)
“…you know I simply spend a fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

He replies
<dramatically>

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

He leans in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the truths have
transformed, they are so harsh, that they’re hard not to recognize.”

He leans away
<permanently>

“Are they not?”
He sniffs
<pompously>

I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
<bitterly>

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit for your perseverance in haunting my life, miserable as it is…you get the gold star award ⭐ for shallowness and cruelty. You think you’re so high and mighty but you’re closer and closer to being nothing at all in my heart or mind…”
She shakes her head
<wearily>

Christ is it time already?

“I gotta get outta here. This is not the best place on most days.
It clouds my judgment.
It needs replacing,
This place, it’s cracked and warping.”

He rises
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure I have you so pumped full of hatred next time you come and go.
I found the machismo inside of myself to assure that you will quite vividly recall, by my insolently reminding you through my soulless actions, the poking of your bear by a legend such as myself. God you’re lucky to have known me in your life, you have no clue how awesome I am. Will you do me a huge favor?”

He asks
(Childishly)

“Sure”
she says, rising
(Hatred imperceptible)

He puts his dog’s hands on her small frame;
looking at her
<dolefully>

He whispers
<emptily>

“Just remember I meant none of it when I said ‘come and go’
as you please” when I said that you can use my place whenever you need it…
I know you’ll be sure to keep holding on to this promise all your days in utter vain. You happen to be quite masterful at that.  And don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out you know, for you.”

She smiles tightly
(so anxious)

Glances a chop to his croaky throat turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know. I’m always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up. I got your “come and go”right here!”

She makes a hip pumping motion that translates into sex.
<Angrily. Passionately>

“But you know where it is.”
She shakes her again as she permanently exits this place, his life.
<sadly>

As the door closes behind her

He thinks,
(Comfortably)

“Not really. But I am lying,
I am lying.”

Decryption.

So my Bit Locker backup harddrive went missing between 1 and 3 months ago; an event that has caused many wasted hours in vain, searching for something that I couldn’t understand was actually physically gone from my possession. This drive has EVERYTHING of any importance to me and, has the datum equivalent of my existence on it. This drive has been my perpetual data dump since I left the tax firm in 2013. After so many days of panic and stress over the unknown location of this piece of equipment went by without even the slightest insight of where in the Hell it could have gone, I was exhausted by the search and had given up hope for the time being, figuring that like so many things in my life go, it would eventually turn up most unexpectedly.

Yesterday, after days and days of viscous cycling of the tensions between myself and the absolute WORM who I’ve been stupidly calling my “fiancé” and/or boyfriend for quite some time (over a fucking joke of a year and a half), I broke it off for good by wishing him well in future days and explaining that he’s been perpetually out of line as well as out of touch with reality in regard to his constant accusations and explosive and toxic mood swings etc.

His response was to say,

“For the record, Bit Locker encryption is simple to crack.”

My end of the line went deeply silent and then a dial tone on his end.

My mind was reeling from his subtle admission. I know he’s not lying about having my Bit Locker because I never mentioned it’s disappearance to him in the time since he left my residence after staying with me for Thanksgiving. Everything fell mentally into place though, and I am now swallowing the unexpected reality of the person I’ve retarded placed my EVERYTHING in has, in actuality, been using and playing me for a very long time.

When I eventually said something along the lines of:

“So you’re not only a liar but you’re also a thief?”

Because this fucking weasel has always talked long shit about how he’ll “have nothing to do with cheaters, liars and/or thieves”, the slight wasn’t felt slightly but quite substantially by me. So now it all makes sense, how he went home after Thanksgiving with a stolen piece of my property and weaseled his way into my privacy like a WORM.
I don’t know what all is on that harddrive, there’s so much stuff on there from many people’s computers over the years; including my Mom and my Daughter’s. This time very personal time capsule of information and historical data also includes all of my photos of ex boyfriends (meaningful or otherwise), childhood, family (dead, missing or alive), as well as any other document attached to my existence over the past decade or more. It was a thing that never saw the light of day and was permanently at my residence.
My piece of shit former fiancé rifled through my shit and stole it from my house while visiting me for Thanksgiving! The implication behind his performing such an action while we were supposedly on the happiest of terms has staggered my ability to be sensible. I am feeling so incredibly violated by someone (some… thing) who I’ve worked hard to let into my hyper-vigilant and sheltered stronghold.

These things jade me beyond words.

My heart has hardened once again over night, and the world is a much blacker and ugly fucking place today, like it always used to be…like it’s apparently going to be forever.

I am very full of regret and self-loathing at present; I hate myself for making such a stupid and lasting mistake in the character of someone who got closest to me of all. I hate myself for being myself. I’m likely not going to write for a while here. This website is like a haunting ghost in its own right.

Newly twisted and caught up.

Not giving a fuck.

…just another in a long line of men who misrepresented themselves and turned out to be a sham.

Kidding.

Americana Injustica

Beautiful, gorgeous, happy glow…
Your Sweetest Nothing’s
put into syllables, for show.
Fiery, wanting…
glued to your face
your mouth’s curves
a daunting place…
I’ve been before
But tell me how – I bow down
into the splinters and cinders
that litter the floors
like your long line of whores
I see them all,
I chooseto ignore…
You never answer questions
your many Life Lessons
have taught you little of
the snap inside my rubber glove
We are meant to Own our possessions.
Are we not?
You have seen quite a lot
Of my flesh,
Camera flash;
digitalized dash
in red LED text;
what now?
Onto the next…
Right?
Or am I wrong?
Am I dumb
To play along?
See here’s the thing:
I see the strings
Attached to each one
Of your crispy clean
cummerbunds…
I see the line of
Space and time,
wrapped inside
Of that tattoo…

View original post 219 more words

History.

I dont know which thing hurts more
The extended hand or the drum sealed door
Wounds burn and sting and bring pain ever more
Tidings that ring singing dark metaphors.
I’m on my own and alone this New Year
The flesh and bone of a crone lives here
Long gone is the thrown of the insincere
I sit alone chilled to bone feeling insecure.
A forgotten vow now drowns out the past
An unbidden sound pounds in wicked contrast
A downtrodden clown bound to eventually laugh
A filth sodden town crumbling down when I pass.
I don’t see how things perceived
Can cast the runes of possibility
At last I do grasp the doom you conceived
The fact that you belong to my history.