What would possess a man to stalk me on the internet after I've told him over and over that I'M  not looking for a relationship?

what would possess that him to pretend to be other people on the internet?
When somebody does not want  you to  be apart of their life...YOU should give it up

Be it  male or female

You should leave them alone
respect their boundaries and their wishes if they wanted you they will be with you period!

I know I stated that I don't want a relationship

Yet I'm looking for friendship and I don't want anything else when the time comes for me to settle down again-no we're not talking about marriage just settling down with one person and being committed to each other when that time comes it will not be with you....

You can cry about it
YOU CAN rant about it
YOU CAN  feel however you do
JUST  just stop stalking me!

I know for a fact that you have MANY girlfriends and of course YOU asked another woman to marry you

I know for sure that you have many lovers & for what?...
I don't know because you're not really good in bed and not good at much of anything .... that's your business and I would like you to stay out of my business

I would like to live my life without you stalking me: hence why I moved to a different state!

I'm on this here poetry site that I've been a part of for a very long time
Yet
I don't even write on here as much anymore because I'm being stalked.

This  this is someone that I  moved far away from 2 years ago and I'm still being stalked

The saddest thing is you're wasting time on me for no reason!

All this failed understanding of what I'm saying  has me worked up , like who enjoys their space being invaded?

Fact is you'll find some way to read this and still stalk me;  via the web, text or call me.

Makes no sense to me..

if I must do another restraining order so be it...
I'm so tired of this  ******* and it's not that I'm afraid IT'S  more so I would like peace of mind because I don't want to become a criminal and hurt this person that's stalking me knows I fear no 1.

I will protect my children so let's hope for his sake he stops!

I don't want to have to go in and out of court.
Which is WHY  I move out of state;  to get this person to stop stalking ME!

WE ALL can't control what people do on the internet but I **** sure can control a person going on to the  poetry sites and dating sites that I'm on, pretending to be someone else!

This is so stupid to do and then try to have conversations with me. ... *** don't you think that's sad- that he's almost 50 & doing this?

He's a father of 3 and a grandfather.

He claims he can have any woman he wants,

  THEN why does he stalk me huh?

Go ****** HAVE  her cuz I don't want or need ya !

I hear stalking is more about control , for some  your  their possessions......

Guess rhats why 6 years ago he once told me -I was his property....

From then on I didn't want to be with him & MADE SURE TO get away from him.

THIS AIN'T slavery & my black Puerto Rican  *** don't  belong to nobody but me!

THANKS FOR READING FRIENDS AND LETTING ME VENT!
STILL MY QUESTION IS TELL ME WHY?
WHY ME?  I think he'd **** me if he could find me! Tell me why?

She frolicked through trouble, and dandled with mischief. Alison Wonderland; everything I wished I was and so much more. Ever emanating her doe-eyed façade; proclaiming our jests mere “mischief.”
Yet, an unspoken verdict (Foretaste? Conception? Notion?) had cloaked the truth: wickedness rippled beneath our parade.
I nuzzled her contours; my peripheral eye – nailed to her profile, her blueprints, her chassis. I stalked her mirage – dancing with vapor.
She glissaded about, no fool to my truth, varnishing my mantle.
I belonged to Alison: perpetually at her side. Our couplet became a “we.” So, We regretted nothing. We veered for the pyre: caroming(skimming?) those embers alit with vice.
She narrated my mental seminar. Discarding my dogmas to uphold her own; and thus, my mind was hers.
My mind was her mind.
Alison made heads turn, and mouths water, as we sidled – hand in hand – down the street. She was my Christmas morning: each colloquium – giftwrapped with finesse. She personified paradise, she illustrated utopia. Hatching our Carnival; netting us, enamored, sidling the Carousal. We’d skim, we’d sail, her halo – my fossil. Her lips, her eyes, her hands… they echoed the innocence of a child. Niave, innocent, and giftwrapped in wonder.
Little Miss Wonderland: my very own fairytale. She was mine alone; she was mine to keep.
Did I want her, or did I want to be her?
Alison Wonderland.
Her aura – so celestial – paralleled my prose. When she banished my husk – Maple Thatcher – I cackled good riddance… And I grew a new personality to accommodate her own.
For, without Ali – devoid of our we – I doubted the very existence of me.
On my composition, she bestowed rhythm. She gave tune to my silence; her chimes, her cadence. My ink was her song – fusing a symphony. A symphony of Alison: the melody to solidify our tryst.
My mind was her mind.
And yet… somehow, I missed a carriage – or two – aboard her train of thought. For, the same felon spiting my existence, was the angel I loved to life. Gladly, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew Maple down.
Fused against Alison, I needed none of Maple.
Carnival infatuations…

Alison Wonderland.

15-10-19
I want you to read this.
Know that I'm a psychopath.
It would be easier if you hated me for creeping up your neck.
For holding a snare around your ankle.

For being obsessed and inhuman.

If I'm not human. If I'm not real. I cannot be hurt.
And since your opinion matters the most in this hour, tell me I'm surreal. So I can surrender.

~

Barefoot.  
Floor.
I wish you could see me now.
Slowly moving my body to his lyrics.
"Oh mother I can feel.."*

Breath in my mouth so I won't die.
If that lust is too mad.
Then bury my flesh and mind among the soaked leaves.
As long as your skin grab my limbs, I'm fine.

kiss your sanity goodbye and welcome madness with hello

I totally adore
How you blend in the crowd
But when we're alone
You become you.


-- Eleanor

Today at the train station

A stranger came up to me

And asked for directions.

I had the sudden urge to give him the wrong ones

Or take him behind the stairwell and

Gut him

And let his family watch as stomach and liver

Flobber out over slipping intestines, or simply

Grab him and throw him onto the train tracks

As the half five train approaches.

It would give people a reason to

Remove their sunglasses,

And possibly even their iPods,

Headphones dangling uncomfortably

As they fumble to save a pointless

(As well as futile) situation.

Maybe they would film it with their phones.

Maybe I'd be famous.

Instead I just sigh and give him the right directions,

Tell him the correct train to travel on,

And slowly smile as he waddles off

And doesn't believe me.