A Dreadfully Fake Fatmouth.

You know that point in a good story when the bad guy finally shows up? There’s always suspenseful music and poorly done close ups of anxious faces…the terror is tangible, even to the viewer. Well what if there is no music at all? What if the bad guy’s entrance is subtle and incognito? What if the villain blindsided the heroin with a haymaker out of nowhere, knocking her down before stomping her unconscious and stealing her grandmother’s jewelry from her bloodied fingers and clenched fists?

That’s pretty much how this most recent bullshit waste of my time, money and energy has come to represent in my mind.

And even more disturbingly, this sorry fuck actually has himself convinced that, despite the fact that he STOLE FROM ME while he was a guest in my home, he has been victimized. It’s truly pathetic how he comes to my blog and steals my posts then paraphrases them and acts all proud of himself for being the plagiarizing thief he is, in reality. He has proven to be one of the very worst guys I’ve ever tangled with romantically…he’s just such a miserable worm.

And now that I’m looking for it in him, it’s so blatant and obvious that I additionally feel like a complete dolt for not seeing it. I spent over and year with this idiot being totally and completely lied to by a narcissistic fuck.

I’m so over everyone in my life at present besides my friend who’s thankfully living nearby…he has been sanity for me lately, though his trial period with me has been extended, which is usually not a good sign.

Whatever.

I have to be able to take it or leave it.

Because that’s what I have to be able to do.

A Dreadfully Fake Fatmouth.

You know that point in a good story when the bad guy finally shows up? There’s always suspenseful music and poorly done close ups of anxious faces…the terror is tangible, even to the viewer. Well what if there is no music at all? What if the bad guy’s entrance is subtle and incognito? What if the villain blindsided the heroin with a haymaker out of nowhere, knocking her down before stomping her unconscious and stealing her grandmother’s jewelry from her bloodied fingers and clenched fists?

That’s pretty much how this most recent bullshit waste of my time, money and energy has come to represent in my mind.

And even more disturbingly, this sorry fuck actually has himself convinced that, despite the fact that he STOLE FROM ME while he was a guest in my home, he has been victimized. It’s truly pathetic how he comes to my blog and steals my posts then paraphrases them and acts all proud of himself for being the plagiarizing thief he is, in reality. He has proven to be one of the very worst guys I’ve ever tangled with romantically…he’s just such a miserable worm.

And now that I’m looking for it in him, it’s so blatant and obvious that I additionally feel like a complete dolt for not seeing it. I spent over and year with this idiot being totally and completely lied to by a narcissistic fuck.

I’m so over everyone in my life at present besides my friend who’s thankfully living nearby…he has been sanity for me lately, though his trial period with me has been extended, which is usually not a good sign.

Whatever.

I have to be able to take it or leave it.

Because that’s what I have to be able to do.

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.

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.

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.

 

Staggering.

Goodbyes that are perpetual,
The lies that are eventual,
Replies ringing contextual,
Both my hands hang at my sides;


Strive to covtrive the beautiful,
Survive and defy the refutable,
Alive in what’s wise and meaningful,
There’s a flaw in my design;


The fling flung at the unbearable,
A thing that’s become something terrible,
A string strung from me to the pedestal,
Emptiness clouds my mind;


Regret will pervade the unmemorable,
Dissent describes the unfavorable,
Neglect persuades the inevitable,
I can’t claim to wonder why;


Moments unraveled into landmines,
Torment travels through real time,
Encroachments that sting all my blood line,
So staggeringly ill-defined;


This face, tattooed by suffering,
Disgrace has a presence that’s smothering,
Replace the sheer essence of everything,
Recovery’s not always kind.

No Longer MY Loss.

So this is how it ends for you…after all you have managed to survive against all odds; you are going to be your own demise in the end. You have missed today’s surgery, because you disappeared into the night last weekend with the promise of returning on time to take care of your own physical needs…once again, you have highlighted for the world: your complete and total lack of any self-respect or desire to take control of your issues. I can’t say that I was honestly expecting you to show up for something that only a responsible individual would have the nerve to do; I recognize that despite your fearlessness, you have a very low-functioning ability to actually handle yourself in the Real World. Perhaps, that is why I had already thought ahead and cancelled your time in the O.R. today; because I knew deep down that you not only lack the care or concern for your own health – but for anyone else’s also; and so I made sure that whomever was in line got to go in your place this morning for their’ surgery. I wonder if you ever consider anything outside of yourself in any context at all…like, do you think about what you are psychologically doing to your grandparents? Or me? Or anyone who has had the humanity to give you another PASS since the most recent Return from the Dead? How many times might your peanut sized brain expect to be forgiven and allowed to return for more destruction to be left in your undoubtedly impending wake? You obviously harbor a completely unreasonable idea of who you are, nor have you a fairly accurate perception of anyone who has been fixed in your life, thus far; while you have been blessed with a family that has been patient and understanding to the best of its ability, you have done nothing but shame yourself and everyone attached to you.
They say that psychopaths have no shame or fear built into the mechanisms that make most people “human”; they say that there is a total lack in the ability to feel for others, or for the part – themselves even. I can say with certainty at this point that you fit that psychopathic profile to a T, as did your father. Any creature with even half of a brain cell would have learned some very lasting Life Lessons after surviving what you have come through…yet, here you are doing the same old shit and another year older, somehow. I have accepted the loss of you, Boo…I know that I am no longer anyone’s Mom, and to be honest there is something disturbingly refreshing about such a notion for me these days; but you still exist (for now, at least)…and I can’t grasp the concept of your choices in regard to HOW you choose to make your existence be like. I cannot feel sorry for you anymore…not after so many times finding you with your entire hand in the fire before it’s anywhere near healed from the last time(s). To pity you only means that you are the victim…and that is NOT always the case, is it? You have been foolish in every element of your life to the point of disbelief; you have essentially shit away any access to the Trust Fund that I fought tooth and nail to ensure through a Civil Lawsuit – money that would easily get you set up in a “normal” scenario, if you had the sense or maturity to just fall in line long enough to get your ducks in a row…but that’s too much for you, even.
I don’t feel sorry that you live on the street and sell your ass to get by, not when I know that it IS NOT NECESSARY AT ALL and you CHOOSE that lifestyle in the face of normalcy and/or self-sufficiency. I don’t wish for you to return like I used to anymore either…because the bonds have been broken already and I now harbor mostly a complete lack of understanding or tolerance for your behaviors and actions. I will not allow my parents to die in brokenness and sadness, missing money and heirlooms that you stole without a second thought as to THEIR existences. What kind of person steals from their grandparents, anyway… not to mention, brings friends home to steal from their grandparents, also? I think we both KNOW what kind of person does that kind of dirt…and I think we both know that I am NOT that person, and never could be. Can you say the same? I didn’t think so…

None of it is MY loss anymore, you know? You’re an adult now, remember? Mrs. Big Badass whose wanted to be grown for so long now, and for what? Ain’t nothing changed, you still do the same immature and despicable stuff that you did as juvenile delinquent, don’t you? How’s that adult thing looking now, kid?

Try Little.

fight-club-copy

Herfra til her, beskidte dearhas
endnu ikke modtaget en værdig ord
se den måde at Ican
producere vinger og flylike
det allermindste, poetisk fugl.
Once in a while, you flash me a smile
and I’m smitten all over again
but most of the time
your impatient, closed-mind
tries little to rein that ego of yours in.
You seem to forget, that I’m no Juliet
never claimed to be a butterfly
your face is so fine
with a heart, so unkind
tries little to learn the reasons why.
You aren’t alone, many have come and gone
with languages that I can’t understand
you’ve chalked yourself up
to that shiny, trophy cup
tried little, to know who I actually am.
Once in lifetime, comes a heart like mine
the likes of you struggles to recognize
so like a camera flash
just a ghost in your past
here and gone before you opened your eyes.