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matilda shaye Sep 2014
on my good days I am floating, there's background noise and the faint smell of desire, but I move like a needle pushing through skin; deliberate, with purpose. whether I'm the vaccine trying to prevent the disease or the cure hoping to alleviate some of your pain, I don't know. I think I might be a weird mixture of both, but the story is only in its rough draft, so there's no telling on if I work or if I'm just a waste of time.

on my bad days I'm only a silhouette, more background noise, the faint smell of gasoline, the sound of sirens, shady looking men walking down the street in hoodies and smoke in the air from a fire down the street, I am the stray dog, the road ****, the broken down bus and the stars completely covered by smog. if you close your eyes, I'm still there. I think on these days there are people trying to run from me, I know I'm one of them, but we can't get away. red light after red light, 13 miles with a cop on your tail and tags that expired last week, rest assured your shadow always follows you, and so does my silhouette.

on both of these days, I love you. on both of these days I long for you, and on both of these days I am running in an attempt to get ahead of time because it's running out, and I'm not finished yet. I'm not ready to become someone who was, I know that I said I would be okay as long as at some point you remember me as someone who played a part but I am not ready to throw in the cards and become a past tense, not yet, maybe not ever.

I'll be 900 miles away driving away from the smog just so I can look at the moon and know you're standing underneath the same one, I'll be 900 miles away with different background noise then this with my hand in the air wondering how in the hell we're supposed to keep in touch if I can't manage to touch you. you say it's not that far, that I won't fall off the grid, that the months will fly by and I will pick up where I left off.
you say a lot of things.
I whispered that I loved you quiet enough for you not to hear and we hung up.

everything's falling, breaking, the seams are ripping, the hinges are stuck, the car won't ******* start again and I think the locks jammed too with my **** keys inside- and then there's the background noise. it's still all just background noise.
Yenson Oct 2018
Criminal Gang Stalking

Definition:

The crimes committed through gang stalking an individual are covertly done, hence little in evidence is left behind of the crime, and the target is left with little in the way of resources to defend him or herself.

Isolation, through disrupting socio-familial ties in an intense slander campaign, is usually achieved once the actual stalking begins.

A pervasive slandering campaign takes place, projecting the target as an unstable individual, child molester, a person with hidden dark secrets, or a person prone to psychopathic behavior.

The criminals planning a gang stalking endeavor study the target long before the stalking begins. Psychological profiling is done, and this is to assist in the overall campaign that includes intense psychological harassments and demoralizations. Tactics used go well beyond fear, demoralization and psychological harassment.

The tactics used have been the protocol in campaigns against common people implemented by the KGB in Soviet Russia, Nazis of **** Germany, and the KKK in the early to middle of last century in America.

The accumulation of all the tactics and events in this dangerously hurtful organized crime against an innocent human being can led to trauma and will emotionally bankrupt the targeted individual, and may lead to death, as suicide is often induced through the assaults. The perpetrators of gang stalking are serious criminals who do great damage, and the acts done are very serious crimes by any measure.

Gang Stalking is a highly criminal campaign, one directed at a target individual, and one that aims to destroy an innocent person’s life through covert harassments, malicious slander and carefully crafted and executed psychological assaults.

Gang Stalking deprives the targeted individual of their basic constitutional rights and destroys their freedom, setting a stage for the destruction of a person, socially, mental and physical, through a ceaseless assault that pervades all areas of a person’s life.

What drives such campaigns may be revenge for whistle blowing, or for highly critical individuals, as outspoken people have become targets. Other reasons why a person may become a target individual for stalking: ex-spouse revenge, criminal hate campaigns, politics, and racism.

Gang Stalking may be part of a larger phenomena that may have loose threads that extent into a number of differing entities, such as government, military, and large corporations, though it is certain that organized crime is one of gang’s stalking primary sources, or origins.

The goals of Gang Stalking are many. To cause the target to appear unstable mentally is one, and this is achieved through a carefully detailed assault using advanced psychological harassment techniques, and a variety of other tactics that are the usual protocol for gang stalking, such as street theater, mobbing, pervasive petty disrespecting.

Targets experience the following :

A total invasion of privacy
Pervasive and horrific slander
Isolation through alienation that is caused by the slander. 4.Destruction of, or alienation from all things that the target holds dear.
Ground Work: A discrediting campaign is initiated long before the target is actually stalked. They, the criminal perpetrators, twist and fabricate reality through such a campaign, displaying lies that paint the target as a child molester, a person with hidden dark secrets, an highly unstable individual who may be a threat to society, a *******, or a longtime drug user, etc.

The slandering or discrediting campaign sets the stage for the target to become alienated in just about every social-familial- work environment, once the actual stalking begins. This slandering campaign is instrumental in eliminating all resource and avenue of defense for the target, before the actual stalking begins.

This stage is one that sees people close to the target, family, friends, neighbors, and co-workers recruited by the perpetrator criminals, who will pose as law enforcement officials, private investigators, or a groups of concerned citizens.

The Gang Stalking is aimed at achieving one or all of the follow:

induced suicide
financial devastation
homelessness
institutionalization in psyche wards
Once actual Stalking begins: The target will endure a vast array of tactics: gas lighting, street theater, drugging, gassings, scent harassment, mobbing, subtle but frequent destruction of property, killing of pets

Psychological profiling will be done so as to initiate an intense psychological harassment assault. Staged happenings and planned or directed conversations will take place around the target in public or places of work, and serves not only to undermine the targets psychology, but also may be used to cause the target to thinking that he or she is under investigation for horrific crimes.

Stalkers will have studied the target to such a level that they know and can predict the person’s behavior. Again, often the target will think that they are being investigated for crimes that would be absurd for the target to have actually committed. Not knowing what actually is happening, the target is isolated and lives through a never ending living nightmare.

Once the target finds out that they are a target individual for gang stalking, or multi stalking, they may have some relief, but from what I have read, the stalking simply changes dimensions a bit, and continues.

Identifying the exact people who initiated gang stalking campaigns is difficult, or near impossible, and this makes it very difficult for people researching this phenomena to discover, in certainty, the roots and genealogy of the crime. Investigation of a “Gang Stalking” crime would require a great deal of resources, and intensity similar to ****** investigations.
WHAT THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW....THIS IS THE TRUTH.

Background information, please read 'Where Is Justice' by same author on this site.
This horrendous situation is happening in our Great civilised Nation,
Nolan Willett Jun 2019
You’re in No-Man’s land, shells all around
Not yet forgotten, but not easily found
Silence is a peaceful but elusive sound,
What a poor excuse for a proving ground.
Lay down, meltdown, fade into the background,
‘Cause all you’ve ever known is letdowns.
krysbaietto Dec 2018
I put too much into everything
And get nothing back at all
Always in the background
Never a priority, just the pitfall

Dream of the past but it’s always gone
Listen for its return
But it’s always silent
Ive been alone all along

Count on the void to multiply
Hugs me with a cold embrace
The downfall of a fantasy
Is that it’s never powerful enough to erase

I stand cold and defeated
A solider with nothing to show for
An empty washed up vessel
on a distant deserted shore
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2019
You may have seen me
When I was folding my arms
Never did you noticed
How high I could fly

You may have seen me
When I was bedridden
Never did you recognized
How strong I am

You may have seen me
When I was stumbled
Never did you noticed
How gracefully I rise

You may have seen
My vulnerability
Never did you realized
How carefully I craft
Admiring it as
The Masterpiece

Probably you just have capacity
To see the partial truth
Never did you embraced
The absolute
Genre: Inspirational
Theme: Dignity
These nowhere towns,
Mountain tops snow-capped long through march,
All else,
Enshrouded in brown.

Though people live here,
And seems they aren't broken down.

The paint peels from the motel,
The mother tends to her daze,
The attendant ponders the insects of the sill,
Tumbleweed **** these acts of being still.

Life is good here,
In these hazy,
Background,
Nowhere towns.
Really hope I captured that picture I saw... I don't think I fully did but... It was almost there...
Mak Jul 2014
the anger swells inside of me like a balloon, ready to burst. Band of Horses blares in the background, and tears begin to fill my eyes, threatening to drop if I don't pull myself together.
stop it.
stop trying to break in
stop trying to make me let you in
i won't
won't won't won't
i won't let. you. in.
stop
i hate you
i hate how my heart beats faster when
i'm by your side
i hate how you make me more of myself
i hate hate ha te hate you i hate you
but more than that
i adore you
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Let's speed down the highway
85 under the street lights
Watching the towns grow small behind us
The music murmuring in the background
The cars fading
Shadows dancing across your face
And no matter what's ahead of us
I can't stop looking sideways
As we drive into the night
Making memories in the moonlight
Holding hands under the bridge
Exchanging kisses at the stop lights
Staring at you while you drive
Cause you can't stare back
with both eyes on the road
Laying my head against your arm
Wishing this **** console wasn't here
Wishing the night would last forever
So I could ride along with you
Kristaps Sep 2018
Broccoli in a white lamp shade
cast shadowy face tattoos
to mark the unjoustly.
The festival in background
is throbbing in directly contrasting sound, to the art nouveau it's sleeping with.

Each vegan burger stand vomits exquisite neon. However
the collage itself
is apologetically brown.
Theatre masks and DJs, VR and a Just Dance floor set,
a sprint before midnight, a sprint after discount ethanol;
so I gaze and perhaps ponder for a friend.

And yet when counting the heads,
I find I needn’t more than my own to hands
for the few middle-aged supermarket clerks
L B Nov 2017
What She Look Like?
  
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--

out!

at all guilty ******* in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….

Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off

to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame

Rising
yellow, bright— and

“What the hell happened, here?!”

____


Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…

if you watch a while—

She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight

…and then you might…

___

She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_____

...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks

Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her
Only male robins do the singing; females do the choosing.  

There are very few recent  photos of me.  Thus this poem.
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
standing at the top
bleary-eyed and nauseated
holding on to stomachs,
glumly watching rain splatter the windshield.
dawn was breaking .
it was freezing and gray;
There was no sunrise.
beaten by fierce wind gusts,
Were we going to ride
that winding wet road?
the most tricky parts
feeling like an idiot
I was up all night,
somber meditation on mortality
we approached the summit,
passing through the gates
how am I going to know my limits?
The volcano had conquered me
how have I lived this long?
watch the sunset.
we made it to the top
passing through lush forests
up the arid moon-like summit,
I descended into the crater,
a rocky path of rugged lava.
this otherworldly place
black, orange, red and silver
Vents emitted plumes
the air is crystalline and still.
I heard no sounds
I posed for pictures
in the background Romeo was waiting.
We watched the sunset
It was sublime
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. - source - https://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/18/travel/forgoing-sunrise-for-sunset-on-mauis-volcano.html
I have seen you posing in pictures,
But i wish to see you smiling in front. I have heard your sound,
I wish to feel the depth of your voice whispering in my ears.
I have seen your eyes from far,
But I wish to have a contact with the gleaming ones.
I have heard songs sung by you,
I wish to have them as the background music of my life.
I have seen your hands playing guitar,
But I wish to hold them as we step forward with time.
I have seen you only in my mobile screen,
And many wishes still crave for your magical presence.
David Adamson Jul 2015
(Villanelle)


It takes patience to wait for the perfect light.
Glance away and the image can disappear.
And sometimes the background isn’t quite right.

The moment missed is like a face out of sight
That against all logic we hope will appear
From around a corner, bathed in perfect light.

Or a pause in the music on a moonlit night
When hesitating lips touch, and love leans near,
But voices whisper that something’s not right.

Technology offers consolation in its sleight
Of hand:  Digitally correct the analog here
And now
, counterfeit the perfect light.

Yet we want more than the mastered byte.
We want the flash between the waiting and the souvenir,
The instant when self and spectacle fuse, reality felt right.

And so we hold on to what’s passing out of sight,
The collision between soon and too late, the sheer
Thread connecting to the perfect light
In which the background is precisely right.
L B May 2017
“...Your words were found and I ate them.
They became a joy to my heart. In my mouth—
a sweet delight, but in my belly—bitter...”
                                                ­ --Jeremiah


...But that night
by dim background of next-room light
I could not see your face
just feel your hush of shadow words
on spine of shudders

Seems we dropped this bomb
that would not stop exploding!

...And I was sure?
that it was right?
because...because....!
Their eyes were slanted!
So they could not see—
the “Good Guys”
VANISH—
WIDE-EYED—!
in its TOO-MUCH-LIGHT

Still your voice insists
in pause and fissioned hiss
that I MUST KNOW
in tender half-life
TRUTH
too pure
too deadly white

I swallow lethal glowing dose
HOW CAN YOU SPEAK
SUCH WORDS SO CLOSE!

EXPOSED!

“...in mouth sweet—in belly bitter…”

Stories? and the Grandma Song
rendered tender—lull of voice
Soul’s cabinet cleared of venial sin
Last of all—the tucking in.....

They say you first get sick....*

Seems we dropped this bomb
that would not stop exploding!
And I am invisibly ill—with truth
approaching critical mass

Will angry rads incise their ways?
Will leaden swords of angels drive them back?

In this night—
my bedtime stories fainted at your
whispers...whispers...WHISPERS—

fusing an oblong fear
that I MUST NOT DROP!
but I cannot hold!

Fetal-folded
frail and freezing
under covers— just barely peeking

“Jesus hanging on the cross…Tell me-- was it I?”
Jesus hanging in the cross
TELL ME! IT’S NOT TRUE!

"Tell me, mother
Were you God talking?

I could not see your face
by the next room’s light..."
My mother told me some bad **** sometimes just before bedtime, and I never forgot it.
Written 1995
Sam Hawkins Apr 2013
What we have named Fire Escape
(an ordered, angular tangle of ladders and rail)
had made picture geometries in my west window
well-framed and flat--set foreground and background
in two dimensions, as the sun hid,
and my round eye opened.

What we have named Fire Escape
was flaked-paint brown orange, as if
first it had been born of a flame
and then had taken up living as metal--
tempered itself into usefulness,
which I should trust now, in case of the yelling
and the engines.

What we have named Fire Escape
was happy Jungle Jim or Jungle for Jane
for the sparrows I saw this morning
which flitted and wildly played
within, rising up
arched and back again.

Made of the square pairs of ladder rungs--
a tunnel entrance or ducking posts,
or highway bridges to clear;
the birds like small plane, daredevil pilots
each following each, going under.
No sparrow would ever crash.

And what is this I remember now?
How one bird eased its engine and perched there to stay?
As if to offer me, with a little turn of head gesture--
a thank you, for the bread I'd left on the sill? Or to say  
I'd better shut the curtain and make my exit?

Either prideful guess gets me nowhere fast.
Failed even is speaking in any sparrow languages
from my recline stuffed chair; again, but now imagined,
to draw beady eyes to fix on me, telling me much less.

That morning, with the very last sparrow gone,
I remember that nothing in my sight moved,
save an American flag at a distance in the wind,
with its one red-white striped wing
waving toward the cold north,
as the white church spire,
framed in open quadrilaterals,
held its position.
written and posted a few hours before the Boston Marathon Bombing, Monday April 15th, 2013
L B Dec 2017
from a dream*

...My student's name is Ari
and he's dying...

“No serious talk today!” he warns
He wants to laugh –
and so we do

He wants the Patriarchs and Prophets
on this tropical island
He names them doing something funny
and I pick up where he leaves off--
with the second line:

      “Elijah, with his ravens on a blow-up raft...”
     “...Ascends with ham sandwich, sipping wine!”

    “Jeremiah throwing mud *****...”
    “...at Zedekiah's white garage!”

We rewrite the Old Testament
laughing till we cry

“Now that's what I'm talkin' about!”
He's pumped
and kicks that rebel trashcan 'cross the room
...and suddenly shouts out--

“For everything there is a season...!”

I do not finish this one....

“I'll tell Solomon you said Hi”
____

...and in that moment half aware...

_____

I'm wearing a grass skirt
in someone else's dream

I'm on Instagram
and I don't know how I got there

I have coconut halves for my ****
but for the life of me –
can't figure
how to keep them on

So I let them sway with my grasses
to the languid freedom of marimba music
toes clutching warmth of sand
No one here to see
but Instagram?

Nagging in the background:
How did I ever get here?

Dreaming like this... right?
Thanks to Anon for the suggestion to switch the order of the two pieces to this dream.  Yes, definitely makes it more sensible.

These two different dreams just somehow blended together.

I have never been to the tropics, but it's nice to dream, seein' as how it'll be
3 degrees here tonight.  I've worked with kids and as a teacher in public schools, so I guess that's where the rest comes from--that, and I've read the Old Testament.
Nicole Alyssia Oct 2016
i feel you under my ribcage
and all the way down to my toes
through my veins and through my airways
as i exhale through my nose

right now, i shutter in silence
at the faint hollow sound
of you strumming on my heartstrings
somewhere in the background
sometimes they just never want you to move on
Rob Rutledge Jul 2014
Against a dark background
On this backwater planet,
We are all just hicks and heathens
In the grand scheme of galactic beings.

Hush,

Don't speak so loud.

It's best to remain hidden,
Out of sight, safe and sound.
Like the lost amazonian tribe

That rues the day it was found.
William Keckler Dec 2014
You will probably always
be savage
as a drop of pond water.

The unnecessary magnification
of this wee orb
always reveals monsters -

animalcules -

relax.

The background
is ****-green.

All of life
flows from

our scumminess.
Sad Girl Aug 2016
There is some girls in this world that you call a six, they go home and cry. Some girls you call a six and they get angry and yell at you or slap you.
I realized that there was something wrong with me the first time someone called me a six, told me I wasn't good enough. I spent eight years after that trying to find him the ten that he was looking for; meanwhile sitting in the background trying to improve myself to be more like all of the eights and the nines. I bought him things and I showed him the most beautiful parts of me, I cooked for him and listened when he needed an ear. I let him use my body and I let him feed from the beautiful thoughts in my mind, the dark thoughts in my mind as well. I let him crawl under my skin. I did whatever he asked me to do and I gave whatever he asked me to give until I felt like I had nothing left.
I knew that there was something wrong with me when you called me a six and instead of crying, I felt the urge and needed for you to hold me and to use my body. I wanted you to know what a six feels like instead of how she looks. Some people fail to realize that I was a ten once. I was a ten being made to feel like a six, being told constantly that I was a six and I needed to be at ten. Imagine how many times someone told me that I was a six because they realized that I was vulnerable, imagine how many times I had to clear my mind of that thought but couldn't. Imagine all of the substances that I poured into myself trying to drown those negative thoughts that had been planted. Imagine how many conversations I had and how many people I let slip in under my loosely sewn skin. Imagine all of the men that I felt the need to be held by, imagine how they "held" me. Imagine how I felt after, imagine what I became. One day down the road I woke up and looked into the mirror and saw someone that I didn't recognize. Here I am, a six, trying to find what I lost.
Nylee Apr 2017
When I'm alone at night ,
I am not scared to turn off the light
I am not frightened that  easily
That is what I tell myself
I don't glance behind every next moment
I don't jump when I see some shadows
The strange sounds in the background
which echos around
doesn't terrify me
Nor do I look outside the window
Or I hide behind my pillows
There is nothing to fear at night
Nothing at all
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
My sociopathic mistress ~
Initially she began contacting me over the course of a year or so and increasingly over the last few months she started visiting me, helping me, caring for me and occasionally employing me in different ways.

She’d just had a break up a few weeks before, explaining that things hadn’t been right in the relationship for some time!

She presents herself as respectful, thoughtful, gentle, kind and considerate and after what seemed to be a very short length of time; unexpectedly declared that she had feelings for me; regarding love, admiration, desire and some other adventures.

She then began to bombarded me with love talk; occupying around 70% of my time gaining my trust, I was swept off my feet; as she took a great deal of interest in me, learning everything about me, what I liked, where I would go, always asking what I was thinking feeling, how she could help and I was flattered and she was charming, though a little awkward at times.

As our friendship grew she started sharing her "back story" ~including some tragic life experiences; she vilified her past lovers, and ex-partners and branded them as crazy or bitter liars and troubled souls; gaining my sympathy, whilst securing my allegiance, and keeping me on side; keeping me close. ~ drawing on my compassion loyalty & trust!

During intimate moments she would sometimes seem a little awkward, false or acting a little insincere and I made allowances for this given my knowledge of her backstory. Re~ (The tragic life events & experiences)

She began to chose and buy me clothes outfits, take me shopping gradually altering my outward image and appearance.

She introduced me to her friends but was careful to keep me and them at arms-length, I realise now that she was building an alternative profile of me in their minds.

She soon started to embroil me in her own rituals and compulsive behaviour’s, explaining that tasks needed to be performing in very specific ways to prevent her getting distressed!

She made many promises :
"The hook"
It was my expectation i.e. waiting for some of those promises to materialise that kept me hanging on; This increased her control and exited her too. (None of her promises came to fruition!)

She gradually had a hand in almost every aspect of my life i.e. my home, my work, my friends, family, my finances, the way i dressed, the food i ate and many other things besides, much of which I didn’t realise until our relationship was finally over.

“Dupers delight!” ~ She often took immense pleasure in duping, individuals or a companies out of something through theft, shoplifting, or getting something for nothing, a profiteer, a chancer!
To question or challenge her authority would result in seeing her façade slip and watch her decline into meltdown.
It's at that point, she would lose composure and I would see her irrationality come to the fore revealing the real person underneath ~ childish, contrived and fragile ~ It’s as if control is the glue that holds her together, without it she just falls apart , she can’t be consoled and it’s impossible to calm this situation.
It’s at this point that she would attempt to regain control by “Gas lighting” me, she would distort the truth in an attempt to damage my self-esteem, to make me question my own mind, my intetion and any actions , apportioning blame, pointing fingers making me feel guilty, or using hurt, sorrow, shame or *** to pacify or regain control over me and my actions.

These episodes would appear often though irregular and I would always be deemed at fault! ~ She “never” took responsibility or made any apologies for her conduct; she would also go out a lot and lie or bend the truth as to where she had been; I never challenged this behaviour!

When the relationship was finally deemed over! ~
I began to see my new position in the cycle ~ she immediately begin to vilify me in order to give credence to her “New backstory”, I felt very confused, disorientated and emotionally fraught ~“Shell shocked” questioning, how much of our relationship was true and how much was a lie? For everything I thought I knew was now knitted together with a very complex web of loyalties, lies and half-truths.

Her pattern of repetitive and controlling behaviours have seemingly remained unchanging thoughout all her relationships!

Within two weeks of being apart she told me that she had fallen in love (My replacement) someone she’d had her eye on for some time, some-one she admires, someone kept in the background, a friend a mutual acquaintance, and thanked me for bringing them together.
The grooming of her new lover would have come about in exactly the same way as previously described. It's her "MO"!
(Her pattern of behaviours, her techniques are fixed.)

Her parting statement to me was ~ just a playful stab at my heart; in the hope of provoking a negative response which would then serve to validate her new "back story".

She’s incredibly self-conscious, her biggest fear is that other people will find out about her true demeanour, her image and appearance is everything to her.
(She's afraid that people will shun her for being so very different)

Full circle~
I too must join the ranks of the discredited; labelled a liar, troubled, bitter and crazy.

She then secretly contacted my friends, family, fellow musicians.

I suspect that she may even attempt to vilify me with authorities or threaten some form of legal action as she has to others in the past!

I'm still drawn to her despite my knowledge of her sociopathic nature, and all the things that go with it ~ her constant need for attention, her lies, her infidelity and her deceit and I feel no malice towards her.
I'm still intrigued  bewitched by the person hiding underneath the façade!
I know that person is far more interesting, beguiling and attractive than the façade!

Now the dust has settled ~
I’ve somehow remained sound of mind, I don’t feel guilty and I’m aware that I’ve been manipulated into thinking and acting in ways that don’t truly represent my character and that I’m just one of many people seduced by a sociopath! ~ Just another natural human variant , a person devoid of true empathy (for others) and that has developed a narrow set of skills and mirroring behaviours, which allow her to blend into mainstream society in order to feel safe, secure and in control!

She would have preferred to add me to the hareem a bank of beguiled individuals that are occasionally called upon,; kept on the back burner in order for her to use in the future or simply to monitor and re-assess her handwork.

The last time i saw her she began with nervous politeness and finished with veiled cruelty, I left this experience feeling drained, uncomfortable and quite fazed.

I hoped this incite would help myself and others to understand whats transpired once they're hooked; though i'm sure the next person will ignore any pre-warnings as just ramblings.

Individuals are driven by the natural pursuit of love, *** and romance rather than following advice of seemingly bitter ex...

One reason you and I might attract the attention of a sociopath is because we shine like stars !
Stars are both attractive and enhance the image and status of the people around them.

A  sociopath will orbit a shiny star draining its energy until its a done before slingshoting to a larger more attractive orbit!
*** is simply a tool for manipulation or pleasure;
There is no love or empathy only stepping stones!

Good luck brothers & sisters and expect high drama!
She loves to watch you *** unstuck!
Jack Dec 2017
You comfort me when we're together
It is silent when you are not around
You are the atmosphere
You live in the background
Without you the day is empty
With you life feels so profound
You do not exist
You are but a sound
Aaron LaLux Oct 2018
She’s got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,

city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck,

so we fck,
and after it's said and done she says,
“I don’t usually do this.”,
yeah well we often do things we don’t usually do,

no road home and no rules,
no control no lines no tolls,
keep knocking and you can come in,
but no one’s home,

what’s going on up there,
how can you be so terrifyingly beautiful,
why are you armed with such a stare,
I know you’re a weapon but what do you use it for,

armed to the teeth no bark all bite,
I say she’s a unicorn she says she’s a vampire,
and I don’t fall in love but with this one I just might,
because we better express ourselves before we expire,

got burned from her fire,
but it hurt so good,
like those cuts that we inflicted onto each other,
feeling erratic I guess blame it on the mood,

always ready to talk about anything except the truth,
she says she only lied to me once,
and that was about not liking Ethiopian food,
and I pretend to care but honestly don’t know if I give a fck,

what the fck,
I’m drunk,
and I don’t usually drink,
but I often do things I don’t usually do,

and I don’t mean to be rude,
but I’m not sure I love you,
because even if I did,
I’m not sure it’d matter to you so what’s the use,

you want the truth,
the truth is we’re born alone and we die alone,
and in the middle is where I found you,
and for a moment this runaway thought he'd found a home,

and I wanted us to stay forever in that moment,
laying there naked in each other’s arms,
but you were insecure and covered yourself back up,
because you didn’t want me to see your scars,

you’ve got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,

city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck...

∆ LaLux ∆

Melbourne, Australia
October 2018
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