Do it.
It is not fair to refuse your guilt,
And equally not fair to leave it hanging forever.
Finish it.
Twist the knife.
You stuck it there,
Now finish what you started, chicken shit.
Silence is naught but cowardice.
Take it back or sever the spine,
Admit the truth or finish the murder you began.
Face things as an adult or stay a child and kill.
It’s the only other way to silence lies you won’t admit.
You started it, the fraudulence.
If you’re so superior, then finish what you started.
Pay...
You can’t fool your own desire.
It matters not how hard you try.
You do not want their hands upon your skin.
They are ugly, grotesque … no matter what they own.
Their touch is repugnant, and your body will recoil,
Needing to be obliterated in wine to stomach it.
Your dreams are not of them.
They do not make you pulse.
They are of me … and have been for years.
I have always known your mind, though you hate it.
I wounded your heart, unwillingly,
And only I can make it beat fast, healed.
You crave...
You cannot befriend devils and remain true to your faith, true to your god.
You cannot let healable regret drift from your mind, without action,
Or it is not regret but self-pity.
Choices must be made.
Stop waiting, let not the chance pass to where it can no longer be reached.
You cannot repent in silence nor speak woe only,
Waiting for the right opportunity to approach but not give in,
Confessions of the heart must be written in stone,
Risks must be taken,
Values must be upheld or they cannot...
He simply had neither the time left nor the will to rebuild his life, and wished with all he had that it would just go away. But it persisted, day in and day out. She, the one who had created the entire issue with her falsity yet denied it, had walked away, as if she’d done nothing, and would simply attach herself to whatever artificial man crawled out of the wall whom she thought could provide her with the material desires and desire for status that she harbored … and also denied. Whichever...
She thought she’d found the best of the best,
The creme de la creme, the power elite,
Status higher than she’d ever find again,
And her head swam with prospects of a life of diamonds,
Inviting them into her personal world,
Bent upon being their acquisition.
But she’d found the worst of the worst,
The most degenerate, the most diseased,
The root of every problem,
The source of the cancer of the world.
There was no morality there, no loyalty, no soul,
But she let them stain hers, defile it,
Let...
Hypocrisy ruled the day, and it ruled the years. And so much had been aimed at him that he believed it was all people knew anymore. So much had happened, had passed without address, without discussion, without resolutions. It was beyond disheartening.
She had believed the caricatures of him proffered by those with personal agendas, agendas to smear him to her. And they did so because she instigated them to, while she pretended to be his friend. The hypocrisy was stark, as she claimed that she...
Do his actions match his words?
Does he kiss those places you dread to let be seen,
Those you hide,
The folds under you jawline where the skin is no longer supple,
What you hide under your locks?
The places where the creases of age have left their mark?
Does he spend the time?
Does he spend his passion there, letting you know his love is true,
Not just words to get his way?
Does he worship the backs of your thighs, taking time to treasure every inch?
Or does he expect you to serve his needs,...
Those who use are always the most sympathetic,
Ready to support regardless of truth,
Regardless of their knowledge of anything,
Saying every kind word they know will bring them favor,
Lending an ear though they do not listen.
Never a criticism will they utter,
Not until they get their way.
Their silver tongues are those of serpents,
Luring in their prey.
The day the realization had come to him that it had all just been an act, gestures of false pity not made in truth for his sake but for the sake of her own ego, to make her feel like a good person, somehow a good person by being fake, his trust in people had died. And any hope that it would ever return was laid to rest when she’d chosen to punish him for the grief she had caused him by revising history to suit her need to placate others, again for her own benefit. It died when she chose to...
If instead of choosing a man who was loyal,
Whose love was true,
A man with wide interests, unpredictable, and deep,
You choose the ugly, the player, one who has nothing but money to offer,
And trolls the world for anyone who will take him, playing the field,
One who is completely boring, no imagination, no real morality …
Instead of forgiving for a transgression you helped cause,
You court what will no doubt end up worse in the end,
Instead of what was guaranteed pure, you choose what is...
He had come to see her as beautiful based upon what he’d thought he’d found in her heart. But what he had thought he’d found did not exist, only a figment of his imagination, a con she was running on him. She was cruel and selfish, but she pretended otherwise. Though she still owed him a debt she would never pay, when he thought about her now, saw her face in his mind, he did not see a beautiful woman, a beautiful face, but a face distorted by a bad heart, a face that had always borne some...
If the deadness, the sociopathy, of his eyes, phoniness of his smile, the vile, frat boy vibe, and the grotesqueness of his physical ugliness did not make her recoil, and, if the thought of his touch, did not make her physically nauseated, than her greed knew no limits, for he offered nothing else but money.
If she could give herself to this man, even befriend him, then she was a slave to illusion, to status, and to wealth. Love meant nothing to her. Loyalty lay miles from her mind, as he...
There are monsters among us,
And they always win.
For they have no morals to distract them,
To make them second-guess their solipsism, their wicked desires.
The herd sees them succeed and, so, blindly follows their lead,
Though their very existence harms us all.
They are our neighbors, our relatives, smiling faces in daily life,
But under their superficial personas lurks deviancy, hatred, the urge to see others fail.
They pursue the worst of endeavors for their own ends,
And pretend it is...
Celebrating, they know not what for,
Some ghost of something in the past, nothing more.
For the freedom they laud does not exist anymore,
And they are oblivious to what lies in store.
And they are the ones who sold it out,
Believing themselves to be the “real” ones, they shout,
Putting on a show to prove their allegiance,
To what they do not know. They know not the law and have no sense.
For they pay attention only to their own bigotry,
And in that they prove their disloyalty,
To what they...
Refusing to stop, until the worst of the worst was found,
She had finally succeeded.
180 turn from vulgar, fraudulent lout to full sociopath,
A man who didn’t really know how to be human,
Which was no turn at all.
Confusing apathy for seriousness,
Psychological abuse would abound.
He was bolstered by those who excused his behavior as something else,
Creating a great guy where none existed,
As she always did.
The only one who seemed to care had seen it before,
Fascination with position...
She could run; she could hide.
She could tear the truth apart inside.
She could cry; she could lie.
She could refuse to ever ask herself why.
She could haw; she could hem.
She could run around with her legs open.
She could play prude; she could be rude.
She could cop her little attitude.
She could scream; she could shout.
She could sit around and pout.
She could be false; she could be phony.
She could sell her soul for money.
She could be alone; she could atone.
She could move and she could leave...
Hedley Mullins was a certified piece of dog shit. That was the ruling of the court of objectivity. But it must be asked how that ruling could be reached so soundly without having access to Hedley’s mind. Though the growing stable of women he kept was a perfect indicator, the answer was not in Hedley’s actions. The proof lay with Kayla Schumacher.
Kayla Schumacher was an emotional mess of a woman, so much so that it could be read upon her face. Her emotional trauma ran so deeply that she was...
Holidays, used to ramp up pressure.
No respect, just a playboy’s heist.
Taking advantage of the zeitgeist,
Confusing the emotions to build a seeming bond.
He would push the pedal down, wanting his way,
Too fast, pushing the gas,
Because that’s what one does if one’s an ass.
Have to cement the control,
Use her loss, use the timing,
No emotion, just a challenge climbing.
Appeals to family and fun,
Obscuring the ulterior motives.
Forced, submissive, done.
And if it didn’t work his way,
She’d be...
“He’s so into me.”
“How do you know?”
“He only talks to me and isn’t seeing anyone else.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Well, from this view of his profile, from an account that isn’t connected to him or his friends, or you, so it can’t mess up the algorithm, these are his top friends … the ones at the top of his full friends list.”
“So?”
“They’re the people he interacts with the most, and he isn’t commenting or liking their posts … so he’s talking to them or looking at them all the time … and they’re all...
She runs to him when hurt,
With cavalier mockery and condemnation of the only one who can stab her so,
When inside she dies, cutting her own life short,
By her denial and his attention she seeks in show.
And that is how she seals her fate,
As to whom she runs is an inveterate ass,
It’s simply not up for debate,
His whole life is built upon greed, everything crass.
He takes her side, makes her feel wanted,
Cuts down the other like a frat boy,
Makes her feel that she is his,
When she is just a...