Only a coward hides....
Behind fake bravado.
When his ego subsides,
It's your fault.." His motto.
He reads you like a book.
Remembers every page. Once he's sure you're on the hook,
He'll start to rattle your cage.
He knows which nerve to strike.
He consumes every pain.
Sometimes, he's so lifelike,
you forget he's so insane.
He doesn't even have to try.
It's just the way he is.
At your brain he'll slowly pry.
But he'll never reveal his.  
He's arrogance screaming of entitlement.
He really doesn't consider that bad.
So Don't expect any enlightenment.
Hell, he say its the most fun he's had.
No rest for the wicked he'll say.
And its still your fault he'll insist.
He's been up tweekin a week + a day.
Its pointless to try to resist.

Oh the horrible he stories he will tell about you....
And some will believe his version.
There isn't much you can do.
You can't explain such *******.

All you can do is keep him out of your mind.
Run away & dont ever look back.
Its evil of a whole other kind.
Remember there's something he'll forever lack,
Look hard,  its his soul you'll never find.

The carpenters house is never finished.

The dishwashers roomate leaves passive aggressive sticky notes on the faucet.

After work, the cook does not make dinner; the cook finds dinner.

The retail worker will not hesitate to call you an *******.

The bartender
can not hold a relationship.

The caregiver
can not bear a child

When the lobbyist comes home, there is no talk of money; there is no talk at all, only passion, hands and coffee.

When the lobbyist does not come home, there is plenty talk of money; prepaid hotel suites, passion, hands and no coffee.

In the *** workers free time, the *** worker does not give body to strangers; you will never find a lover more faithful than the *** worker.

When the prophett dies, the prophett keeps living.

When the artist is not painting
the artist is watching.

The worlds most powerful leaders have a dungeon in their basement.

The sociopath can know what is right and do the wrong thing anyway.
The sociopath doesn't need a job for that.

It just happens...

sometimes...

The sociopath is working on it.

Forth and back so on and so forth

Madness masking more madness

When a narcissist cries. . .
Big, fat, salty
Crocodile tears of self love

For you to appreciate their

              Sensitivity

So insightful through the most insidious of manipulations
Unaware, blissfully, so blissfully you stay unaware
In some emotional waiting room

Preparing for an appointment
That was never made

Not for you anyway

You're just the vessel
My ride to the store

Paradoxically
To the narcopath. . .

Self love is
Self loathing
Self loathing's
Self love

Those who crave pity
Must first devour all of their own

Then starve at too young an age
From loving themselves
Much too much
Behind a shattered enough stage

A mess at the start
Even cats need learn their own claws

Professional confidence from something
Re-sewn, sutured, glued, reassembled

From pure disaster into smooth alabaster
Sharp at the edges, dangerous
This insightful love of the narcopath

Fierce now unbroken
Statuesque
Whole and all powerful

Distorted fully to experience zero reality
Floating among humans
In irrelevant situations

A deep love shared for the glory
Of one

With the strength
Of one thousand suns

Be careful

Those little emo black holes, ha,
They'll swallow your *** whole

Along a road in solemn solitude went me.
Until voices came inviting me to a tree with no guile.
I was very tempted to instantly agree,
Because they insisted I could rest under for a while.

Along a road in solemn solitude went me.
Finding myself near another broad leaf.
In this lonely desert where exile was free,
And I just wanted to find myself some peace.

Was it a sin for exile to lie in the shade,
Or better yet to be the shade itself.
You tell me as you look at my shade that was forbade,
Isn’t it pleasant even when our leaders promised Hell if.

Next to a road in solemn solitude hung me,
Each passerby looked and quickly did not.
As my body cast shade from top branches of that tree.
Not finishing my road because I’d been caught

I had much to do and much to see,
But here I am instead relaxing in the hanging tree.
I had much to do and much to see,
But instead now I have peace and sway in the breeze.

Someone came to disturb my easy peace.
They cut the strands I considered tendons and ligaments.
My friend would not accept my chosen release.
Attacking the branch connected to me, it was snapping and bent.

Releasing me and and the pent up oxygen.
She blew lively breath into my deprived lung.
After the hell my body and mind had been in
I was glad to see your face, in my mind your beauty was flung.

Down a solemn road in company went she and me.
She had saved me from that hanging tree.
Down this dusty road we went hand in hand.
Her hand and breath saved so we could live on this desert land.