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You are defined by your choices,
Your choices define you,
Pray thee tell what narc you choose?

Everyone has something they lose themselves in,
Some habit, regime, or routine. ****** if you don't
but ******* if you do. Tell me what narc you choose?

Pray thee spill, or did this narc chose you;
Who feels narcosis calling,
Narcotic longing?
Alice Jun 2023
Compressed in bed, feeling rigid,
Dreaming about animals dying.
The mornings kick so much harder-
Kick me right back into bed.

We just let the sun rise and set.
And let it be known-
I'm no more awake come noon,
No more awake at work,

No more awake in dreams:
Wading through syrupy water,
I feel that way come day.
I keep trying to speak up

But no one even sees the bubbles rise
Barton D Smock Jan 2014
i.

god’s little narc
  
ii.

god’s little narc
tossing a rattle

iii.

god’s little narc
tossing a rattle
at a fish tank
Nazish Idrees Sep 2019
he is a turtle
she is a rose

he moves slow
she daily glows

he is rough and coarse
she smells perfect

he closes his eyes
she flies in petals

he proposed her
she refuses

he goes down underwater
she amuses

he came as a wet pet
she firms her guards

he tells a story
she discards

he stops trying
she loves the scar

he stays in front of her
and she remarks

what do you need?
what do you want?

his voice is crisp
he utters at last

I just need affection
I just need admiration
I just need approval
because I am a narc.
spysgrandson Mar 2016
I was chicken
dropped only a half tab--a quarter before midnight  
and hurried back to my apartment
before the day changed    

from a Monday
to a ruby Tuesday  
where my walls melted
and music smelled like sassafras;
the flickering flares of light from two fat candles  
tasted like toasted almonds    

every eternal hour, or minute,
or so, I would try to tiptoe down the hall  
past the sleeping neighbors who were all dreaming
of me, skulking past their locked doors

but I never made it to the street
a feat that would have demanded
I stop giggling, and my heart stop thumping
for any pig or narc could have seen
my crimson machine pumping
ready to fly from my chest    

dawn did finally come--I was
coming down, down from the floor
on which I had lain from the minute
a ferocious fly dive bombed me
somewhere around three  

I walked to the corner grocery store
where I bought pan dulce, and was glad the clerk
spoke no English, for surely she would have asked me
to tell her how I survived such an aerial assault  
in peacetime
Pearson Bolt Aug 2015
FTP
when i say
**** the police
i do not feel obligated
to justify or quantify an
assertion that seems
fundamentally apparent to me
i do not find it necessary
to recount the endless horrors and
psychological terrors visited upon
ordinary men and women
nor do i deem it essential
to my personal ethos of
mutual dignity and
profound respect to
needlessly revere those
behind the badges
and the guns
i just see pigs dressed in blue
prove me wrong

i'm still waiting

when i say
**** the police
there's just one thing
i hope you understand
i do not detest the finger on the trigger
nor the hamfisted hand shoveling
Krispy Kream donuts
into a bottomless gullet
nor the fist clutching the baton
pummeling the peaceful protestor
who gave a riot-geared narc
a bouquet of flowers
nor the thumb emitting mace into
the unsuspecting face of a teenage girl
with a hot-pink mohawk

i do not mean offense when i remark
officer
your mustache reminds me of a walrus or
officer
were you the high school bully or
officer
can you direct me to nearest KKK meeting
please and thanks

so when i say
unequivocally
**** the police
know that it is because i detest
a racist misogynistic homophobic
apparatus of institutionalized oppression
that harasses the marginalized
as it butchers youth of color
and masks the misdeeds of its privileged elite in
a fraternity that utterly disregards morality

when i say
**** the police
it's 'cause i realize that absolute power
corrupts absolutely but the same
could be said for even a modicum
of power that twists and churns
and transforms the best of us into
vicious caricatures of humanity
the fissures of hegemony are exposed

as hierarchy crumbles we find inside us
the power to extol truth
even when it's unpopular

and say
**** the police
'cause they're too lazy to use
their words when the State gives
them a gun and
a license to ****
all charges will drop
because the only police who police
the police are the police

when i say
**** the police
it's because the State uses fear
to control its subjects
in hopes we won't realize
we don't need them
they keep us scared of one another
of the demons hiding in the dark
focus our terror on the monsters
lurking underneath our beds rather
than the Feds driving down I4 with
firearms strapped to their hips

when i say
**** the police
it's because it has not
escaped my notice
that the U.S. has the largest
prison population per capita of
any nation in the world due
to draconian laws governing
the use and abuse of substances
and i may be straight edge but
i'll be the first to point out
that the State's manufacturing new slaves
with its arbitrary arrests over ***

so i say
**** the police
because i remember
my brothers and sisters
who swine stole from this Earth
though i wager i'd never meet them
i'm certain their so-called criminal behavior
certainly did not merit an execution

and contrary to popular belief
black lives matter
so pull your head out of the sand
with that
all lives matter
hog-wash and open your ears for just a second

brother Michael Brown shot
down in Ferguson for walking
along the middle of the street

Eric Garner
strangled by a narc
accused of selling loose
cigarettes after dark

Sandra Bland failed to use her turn
signal and we discovered her later
hanging from a rope
like Roxanne Gay said
even if she killed herself
white hands are still locked around her throat

Trayvon Martin dared to wear a hoodie
and trespass in an affluent community
for failing to return to the ghetto
a vigilante **** sent him to the morgue

twelve-year-old Tamir Rice
played cops-n-robbers in his lawn  
no one stopped to tell him
its the boys-n-blue
who're robbing young kids of their lives
with bullets packed tight in their 9's

over 860 men women and children
killed by thugs draped in red white and blue
in these first 9 months of 2015 alone

so when i say
**** the police
i say so out of a sincere conviction
that there will be no peace until we get
some ******* justice
and i know the State Department's supplying
our masters with leftover gear from its
exorbitant multi-trillion dollar wars
M-16s tear gas flashbangs,
body armor HumVees tanks
rubber bullets surveillance kits and small arms
to suppress dissent and smash
lawful assembly with violence
but when they order us to cease and disperse
or suffer arrest
we'll have three words poised on our lips
**** the police
For all those whose lives have been interrupted—or terminated—by State-sponsored terror. Rest In Power.
Dream Fisher Feb 2020
An older lady came to the pharmacy
To pick up her oxycodone twenties,
Her copay wasn't much money,
Double counted a hundred twenty
As close to me as you stand,
I explained her doctor prescribed Narcan.
In case of overdose, one spray up the nose
Can save yourself or someone else.
She twisted her face to me real funny,
And said "What do you take me for a druggie?"
She took the vial, left the spray
As I waved with a have a nice day.

She felt accused by me, in a huff,
Threw the pills up in her cabinet.
As fate would have it, her granddaughter
Came over and spotted the bottle with red cap.
Imagining the high if she could get that,
Imagining the euphoria as she stole that.
Sneaking off into the bathroom
Downing tap, she consumed a few.

Something wasn't right, her breath felt light,
Disoriented trying to read the label,
Hands shaking, feeling her body dive,
She saw the number twenty, thinking they were fives.
Unresponsive, her grandmother runs in
With the sound of a heavy crash,
She waits for paramedics who arrive at last.
Only to announce, nothing to be saved
Now she digs a grave for pride over a nasal spray.
There's an entire field of math
that investigates how fast
things move, one with respect another.
From hydraulics to ballistics,
to scheduling and logistics,
to expected birth rates -
healthy babies, happy mothers.
You can model how disease
moves through a populace with ease
or with diff'culty, as coefficients vary,
how heat and energies diffuse,
or how quickly I will lose
your rapt attention, if I choose,
choose to carry,
always carry,
  carry on the way I do.
If I carry,
always carry on,
  to interest just a few.
But hey.
A passion's still a passion
no matter what you're drawn to.

And with some level of abstraction,
maybe we could find an action,
a reaction,
  an expansion
that could yield a change or two.
Piece together some firm notion,
quantify that art in motion,
brew that bubbling new potion
that can build a better view.

Because there's got to be some level
where preconceptions start to end.
Where the Bell curve starts to bevel,
where your mind begins to bend.
Where names and labels scatter free;
it doesn't matter what you do.
Where fin'lly I can just be me,
where you can just be you.

Because it all comes back to how we move,
one with respect another,
always acting as behooves
someone with our label's cover.
Father, mother.
Sister, brother.
  Pusher, shover.
   Friend and lover.
Villain, hero.
Dime or zero.
  Caesar, Nero,
or just a guy.
A ****, a bro
a ****, a **
The man who knows
every disguise.
Mathematician,
a physician,
  a scared little boy wishin'
  on a shootin' star swishin'
long across a midnight sky.
Theatrical protagonist.
Can you start to get the jyst?
We've got so many roles to play.
Who do we want to be today?
  Just who looks back behind our eyes?

A Freedom Fighter
Wrong righter
Fire started
Broken hearter
Wallet stealer
Dope dealer
  Narc
  Cop
STOP!
For God's sake,
let it stop.

I've got too many roles to fill.
Just can't chill.
Can't calm down,
can't come around.
I'm so tired,
I'm so wired,
  I'm so scared of gettin' fired.
So much **** piles up.
Please, Barkeep, one more in my cup.
  And crank those ******' dials up.
Make chaotic volume flood,
'til the sound of pounding blood
  in my ears becomes a mud
layered thick around the brain,
until that **** that's so insane,
  becomes labeled as mundane.
Betrayal.  ******.  War.
Ya know, I've seen it all before.
  And I'd expect we'll see some more.
But that's okay.
I can breathe.
I'm listed here as understanding.
It's expected.
Let it go.
I'm listed here as undemanding.

It was for a blessing's name
that Cain betrayed his brother.
So becomes our choice of movement,
one with respect another.
Stationary, if not stable,
names fighting to define
people willing, if not able,
to leave their names' confines.

I know it could be simple
if we put our names to rest,
but like some aggravated pimple
grows my own list to contest.
I'm still a lover unrequited.
Still the guy who's ever-slighted,
I've got my Fightin' Irish side;
got both the drinker and his pride.
I still speak my simple credo,
have a Gemini's libido.
And by chivalry's demand,
will keep on offering my hand,
  knowing full well that you will stand
without assistance,
and insistence
that you don't need help from a man.

It gets out of hand so quickly
trying to cultivate ourselves
into what we think we should be.
We wind up bring off the shelves
more than we bargained for
and in the end,
the labels wind up wrong.
While well-intended
all we ended up with
is a spoiled song.

It started out four hands together
plucking out a little tune.
Silv'ry chords you sent to heaven
on a morning come too soon.
But the motif
stolen by the thief
of our own grand delusions,
Our minds,
just as we trained them,
racing off to draw conclusions...

What was once upon a time
beautiful simplicity
became muddled by the noise
of the entire symphony.
The blowing brass and sawing strings
of complicated history
confuse the senses, turn our tune into
a blurred cacophony.

And so we quit that silly game,
'cause it could never be the same
after we banished every name
except our own.
Then we could be
free from confinement on the "who,"
the "what," the "why" of what we do.
with me just me, and you just you.

So it is shown.
Q.E.D.
ambiance amplified and gravitas dead inside
drink alone, danger zone, shot the Jekyll, saved the Hyde
cut my seat belts so my doors wouldn't beep, though
I creep with a fleet of conceited banditos
to the park, skip some rocks, play the shark, shuffle birds
find the narc, go and knock, make it bark, no one heard
a million reason to stay awake wide-eyed tonight
ninety-nine *******, one problem: you're in my line of sight
black & decker woodpecker, fur-trap chop with my power-drill
trill wagon, cool dragon flagon of honey mead on the window sill
unseen fiends mean for stones out beating streets to smithereens
you only live nine times: shake the earth, **** the silver screens
pair of sweet, pear-shaped tweets for you to meet in the suite,
they can show, you can see that they know how to greet
enough throwaways to keep boost mobile open
enough light reflecting princess cuts that they think my neck is frozen
touch fuzzy, get dizzy
tlp
AuntieBelle Dec 2014
Remember, some line up.
Line up and wait for their own day in hell.
They scream for victory.
The far away deep, lost heart places that  
dry up fast when cowards are left to tend them.

Accelerating, gnarled prizes, metal and tubes,
wires and guts and brains that smoke the sun's color,
losing it in the pitch of the rainbow-slicked sludge.
Up, up, and away, a dark celebration in song, something
shouted gleefully at the sky on the way to the gallows.

Desire, hate, and the teasing, fatted, greasy greed,
they all feed the Black God's Mirth, they'd better.
They'd better know he'll consume them as quick,
when the hard, cold mud-water fist envelops them
embraces them, makes them still again.

Don't waste your deep song throats on a trivial Godsson,
humanity-theif or cracked up narc, discarding dignity
as quickly as you give it up. Don't do it.
Give him breathmints and soap and humility, please.
He needs those.  

Don't take anything that isn't yours or can't be sold
quickly, easily locally. The bedroom path is
strewn with flowers no one loves
You are worth a little revenge now and then, get some.
Talk??? It's cheap ****. No one's buying.
Roughly composed in the parking lot of the Port Orchard Shari's, in the wee hours before dawn on Sunday, March 2nd, 2014, not because the idea is great or good or even anything at all, but because it was very necessary that I do something quiet, non-violent and not considered a felony in Washington State. I won (sort of, I didn't talk to any cops or wind up in jail that night) that struggle and the result is this piece of crap. Suggestions welcome. Seriously.
Clare Coffey Sep 2018
Tear down the walls of your guilt
You weren't the one who told lies
He charmed you and deceived you
He came like a wolf in disguise

Tear down the walls of your grief
Yes what he did was a shock
But time can be a great healer
You can not turn back the clock

Tear down the walls of your rage
Don’t let your anger back in
That stuff can drive you crazy
That’s how he thinks he can win

Tear down the walls of your hate
It’s time to learn to forgive
You are only hurting yourself
And that is no way to live

Tear down the walls of your doubt
Try to find some self belief
Take back the self assurance
That he took like a cruel thief

Tear down the walls of your pride
Admit that you made a mistake
After all you’re an adult
And that choice was yours to make

Tear down the walls of your pain
Even though he ground you to dust
Not everyone will betray you
Go find someone you can trust

Tear down the walls of your fear
And look everyone in the face
Find the courage to get out there
The world is a beautiful place
Ann M Johnson Oct 2013
I remember running down the halls in high school while people shouted, that I should try out for track
The reason that I ran so fast and no one had my back was my bully
It was not just his words I feared though his words often made me feel ill
I got the chills when he tried to set me on fire ,when I had on a dress my sister made for me
I tried to report it to a respected teacher at school, who said that he could not help it, because he lost his mom
I still felt that something was wrong about this teacher's logic
I reported it to my sister and the bully's lighter got taken away
I got harassed by the bully and his friends about his lighter being taken away, they called me a Narc
I felt better though that I talked about it, instead of hiding it inside
It felt right to shed some light and make it know that bullying is wrong
I recently heard on the news, now bully's have a new tool, via text and online cyber bully
A 12 year old girl recently took her own life after a few girls bullied her for a number of month's.
I think those girls should be charged with a crime as if they murdered her. It was not right that they took away her self esteem and confidence till she felt like she could not take it anymore
She gave up the fight, I wonder if her parents knew and I wonder if the other girl's parent's knew what they were up to when they bullied her
I wish this tragic event could have been avoided I feel for the parents loss
People need to know that bullying comes with a great cost, one's life which is priceless
I saw the story on the news which saddened me, and it brought up some memories of when i was bullied
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
See the riders
Rise to power
Cowering
To idols

Watch the flower
Sprout the towers
Devouring
The rivals

Search the homes
Of trustless hearts
Cracking stones
A world apart

Seek out the alone
To turn them narc
Replace their bones
With ******* marks

It is dark out here
But here is the torch
The path is near
But the sky is scorched

Lose it all
But take the most
Make the call
And act as host

Burn the blame
In viral hate
Do the same
And claim it fate

You came
You saw
You killed
The king

You face
The face
Of gods
Insane
Lady Bitternit Nov 2013
Flavor to the max
Omegas from the Flax.
These roads are twisty
I hope the sky gets misty.

My mother
told my brother
to eat the penny.

She whacked him with a mallet
and knocked the penny out of his palette
in the middle of June
while riding a balloon.

The sky was dark
But Gary's still a narc.
Bob ate my chowder,
so at him I threw powder.
Deyer Oct 2014
My question started with Rives and Op Talk.
Only an idea at first, a spark,
convention that I can not help but mock
because spark rhymes with hark and bark and narc.

Write to make the bones of Shakespeare shiver
and this is awful but who is to say
that a young artist cannot deliver,
cannot produce a lyrical ballet?

It is not important. But it is special
because I cannot speak and speak and speak
and the world is not always so gentle
to warrant an outlook so very bleak.

Not all of the lines will always rhyme like
A sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet has to.
Cedric Escoffier Apr 2019
I wallow in dreams and memories, some eternal fantasies in which I, a puppeteer, fashions you in every way I please.
From looks to habits or the movement of your hip I hold the string from tongue to lip.
A single sway could make you prey to wrathful play, you, hunted to the hunter, thread to the hook caught upon its clinging nook.
I spit and curse at your nature which I seek to resemble, me, lifeless and formless without a self, void of a soul, a creature unborn, a narc from cradle to the grave. I love you the best I can, you, avatar of what I know I am.
My projections.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title: prune
body:
      /ick/
\itch\
|snooze|
szshszsh    a 502 bad gateway bypass


HIM:

Why are we quantum entangled? I'll just walk away

12 hours ago Quantum physics mean nothing. Take your plank hole shove it up your plank hole ***. non locality? get non locally ****** every instant. I drank the essence of a black hole.

12 hours ago Wait, I want to know what you see so I won't walk away.

12 hours ago I live in the US, in Colorado. It ******* ***** here. King George is an *******.

11 hours ago My issue I'm having, there's too much to the story inside my mind. There's not enough words or time to tell

11 hours ago It all starts with Unholy Trinity. Cast of characters in “clinical” terms, Borderline Mommy Room 11 who lives completely fragmented and disassociated from her own feelings and emotions and Narcissist Room 7. I’m cast in a role in a control fantasy  between these two psychotic child blood drinking creatures. I have to be the adult. I have to deal with their feelings and emotions. I don’t get to have  happy childhood feelings and emotions.

Now I’m in my 30s. I’m confused about Borderline Mommy Room 11 because “Real” Mommy failed miserably. I don’t understand being born because of this “failure”. I found a new Surrogate Mommy who lives above my head Room 11. She’s “clinically” “borderline”. I think she has a control fantasy. She’s using  me in her control fantasy, really easy and convenient for her. She had been watching me for months before I realized she even lived above my head, apartment above. When she was always making noises, before I even knew who she is, it would give me PTSD symptoms and I’d think my dad’s getting up and he’s coming back to ****** me again.

Now I’m more aware of the situation. I had a control fantasy too but I’m working on breaking down it down, return to source. I know now I just have really really ****** up Mommy issues and I’m using Surrogate Borderline Mommy Room 11 as a mirror, projector to try to understand what the **** happened in my childhood. I have no idea what is going on in her brain, she refuses to communicate with me.

The first time I saw her, I saw her in the rear view mirror of  my car. I did not know how long she had eyes on me. Way longer then I knew about her. Basically she had preyed on me, calculated a whole bunch of stuff about my psychology because she had been spying on me. She approaches me one day under the pretense of a light for a cigarette. We talk. She tells me about her self. Like’s to paint. Has paint all over her hands and arms. I had been avoiding looking at her because the beauty, is just what I want. I want her beauty and I’m scared of wanting that. So simple. She made a move though then I saw her up close, too late. Feelings are there now, no going. She smokes cigarettes, I don’t. I smoke cannabis, ask her if she wants to smoke in my apartment. Show her my computers stuff, tell her about my divorce, pretty much just make a fool of myself. What ended up happening is me inviting her to the apartment was a ******* really really bad idea. I show her more, my paintings and stuff. Tell her I served time in the psychiatric facility. She served time in the same one. They say bipolar mania for me, borderline for her. Nothing happened between us, she decides she wants to leave. I tell her it was nice speaking with you, she says the same. She says she’s happy she came up to me. I tell her I’m happy too Got her number, she says she wants me to text. I tell her I would like to see her paintings before she leaves.

I’m trapped in the spider’s control fantasy at this point and I’m completely oblivious. In her control fantasy, She’s just using me to  recreate conditions in her childhood so she can master them. Nothing personal.

She asked me to text her, I did, basically just repeated myself, would like to see your paintings, let me know what you would like to do. She “ghosted” me. She lives above me and “ghosts” me on the cell phone. I never send her another text or call her. Takes me a month to figure out that she has *** with Narcissist Room 7, who has way too many guns and always has the cops showing up to his room for some reason. He confessed to it, and basically the way he told is is he lured her somewhere and ***** her, used her for purposes of ****** gratification and that was that. I think she saw me talking to him, this is what borderlines are known to do. They triangulate. This man who I was speaking with reminds me a lot of my ex husband, who I recently divorced. He was a very evil man into the Voodoo religion, a super control freak who had me under a Voodoo spell.

Psychologically, Narcissist Room 7 has now become cast in the role of my father, or ex husband Voodoo, who is a very dangerous and abusive man. Now I’m in the middle of this really ****** up situation again, like a repeat in my childhood, between my parents and their inevitable divorce, trying to stave off the impossible. Narcissist Room 7 is obsessed with me. He was working on me, trying to get me to do what he wanted. I was just humoring his manipulating attempts. Honestly, I may have even had a plan. I have plans and keep the plans from myself. But the plan got jammed up by Borderline Room 11. I’m ******* ****** with him now and it completely ruined his plans to manipulate me. He came by later, trying to manipulate me to get over it, bros before hos, blah blah blah. I’m not following that script, I will not be manipulated. I’m angry with that man, for good reason and we will not be ever becoming friends and this just eats him away. He is obsessed with my attention for some reason, so is she. She always puts on a display to make sure to parade her kid around in front of me in some bizarre power play. That’s how she communicates with me. She’s holding me hostage in her control fantasy and I have decided now that I’m just not going to play along anymore. This is a ticking time bomb situation, we’re all ticking time bomb people with very bizarre psychologies. Not sure what’s gonna happen here.

So the root error and cause of this ****** up situation is my mommy issues. So what do I do? I call my mother. Tell her to come visit. My plan is to give my mother all the attention. When she gets here, I’m going to ask the Narcissist Room 7 if he wants to have *** with her while I watch. I’ll tell him he can invite surrogate Surrogate Borderline Mommy Room 11. We can even record it and have the memory live forever. I’m going to keep talking to my mother, give all the attention to my mother and drive these ******* stupid *** people crazy. They want my attention, I need to give my real Mom my attention. She’s in a lot of pain and really hurting. I care about her even though she abused the **** out of me. She’s finally learning how to help me out a little, for real this time!

11 hours ago Oh i forgot to mention, last real communication I got from Borderline Room 11. She has a really bizarre sense of timing because of her fragmentation and disassociation. She went out to take her trash, timed it with when I drove back to the apartment. I was looking at the sky, ignoring her. Timing ended up being she walks behind me as I walk up to the do or to unlock. She walks up to me exactly the same way narcissist room 7 ***** her. Asks me how I'm doing? I'm just like, inside, is she ******* kidding me right now? ***? I just reply: "Ill be all right". I havn't made eye contact, this isn't real communication. She's ******* with me and she knows it. She's still behind me, the split occurs and eye contact occur. She says thank you. I tell her, you are welcome and I smile. Now I'm in a fight with Narc Room 7 down the hall I guess, with a little child in the mix.

I now find myself most concerned about the child in this situation.
I am very frightened.
The danger is real.
Violence seems inevitable, can’t see the future.
Caught in the web
No way out

Last communication I got from Narc Room 7 is he told me my room smelled like **** because of the insence I was burning. He told me this from down the hall. I tell him, come up to me and say that **** to my ******* face, say that again because I did not hear you. He said it. He replied: Are you saying I’m ****? He got real mad about being asked this question, so I asked him more. Why the **** do you come up to me and talk to me? What the **** is it about my attention that you need so bad? He just says all I do is cry, makes crying noises. Im just like ***, you literally turn into my father. I ask him if he’s real? He closes the crack of his door and returns to his apartment.

10 hours ago I forgot to mention, I held the door open for her. Total sucker, total fool

10 hours ago Let the self trashing continue. I already know what's coming. I'm indifferent. Okay with anything. Ready for the suffering

10 hours ago This is my last message before it scrolls off the screen. The identity confusion that results from being in the middle of Borderline Women and Narcissistic men is very very very very confusion. I am so confused. I think I'm going to be okay. Writing helps. Getting the story out of my head helps. Will continue the work as long as I can


ME:

how can i unpack, justly, fairly, what you have left me? i don't think i can... oh: i will have you know that i read all of it, it was a curious read in some parts, but, in other parts? very relatable...  i'm going to try to refocus your attention on something that's been been bugging me before i try to consolidate your troubles, not that i'm going to offer any advice, proper... o.k. o.k.... the song... Your Woman by White Town... was sampled by Dua Lipa - Love Again... which one do you prefer? Me? i recently tried to get together with this woman... i'm 35... she's 39... oh my god... i really fancied her... i was round her house three times... outside of work... brought her homemade wine, forgot my "Gordic Gryffindor Sorting Hat" i left at her house... pom-pom and all... a hat i found at a bus-stop... mind you: i hate Harry Potter...she too has a kid... a lovely 11 year old chap... i told him he should be learning German rather than French because the grammar: the way words are aligned are akin to English... her dog liked me... i had wounds on my knuckles from putting out cigarette buts on them... because? i enjoy pain... being a sadomasochist... i like to inflict pain i might on others on myself first... that's the real test of the threshold... first: me... and if someone gets in the way... at least i could possibly say: 'don't be a *****, i can stomach this... if i can: so you can too...' i even cycled the night prior to Valentine's day and left a card and a bouquet of flowers on her porch... what did she do? ghosted me on WhatsApp... then again... all the talked about was her exes... her abusive exes... one boxed her (beat her)... drank excessively... i drink excessively myself, mind you: but i'm the sort of drunk that tends to wrestle with his shadow and beats himself up... the kid doesn't know his father... she dated this dog-lover type of guy during lockdown... but once lockdown ended... the dog-lover type ended falling back into his old ways... sniffing ******* etc.,  for THREE ******* DAYS i had stomach cramps... i was thinking: ooh! i'm in love! i'm in love! i'm in love! i thought i was... "thought"... this is the same person that... on our first shift together tried to spread a rumour that i was stinking of alcohol / drinking on the job... 2 ******* WEEKS OF DRAMA... between my coworker females... you know... in that sort of scenario... watching a horror movie like Hellraiser is more akin to admiring Buonarroti's Pietà... horror has its moments...it's no longer horrific... it's somewhat beautiful, when people behave in such a petty way... but i told the other girls... listen... don't tell her that i know, i even used the proverb phrase from my native land: liies have short legs... i.e.: liars don't walk on stilts... you need to be a Machiavelli to lie... you need cunning... you can't just expect to be a good liar by watching English soap opera dramas... to be a good liar? you first need to master telling the truth, i.e. to be unashamed of it... like... i tell you i still live with my parents... in the Anglo-Saxon sphere i should be ashamed of this fact, like i'm some would-be Ed Gein ******... but then i tell you... but i'm the custodian of the property itself, i will own it when they're dead... i do all the housework, the DIY and the cooking... my parents are not going to be found in an old people's home... but you know... in order to lie... you need to remember the lies you spin...  you need to be consistent, otherwise there will come a time when glitches... irregularities appear... all liars are bad because they haven't spent enough time in speaking the truth: CONSISTENTLY.... the reason why i'm framing my reply like so... from a shared experience is because: i don't know how to approach your individual case... the similarity is that this "girl of mine" is also damaged goods... she has an 11 year old kid... she has several suitors... she's also very attractive... and i'm as dumb as you in willing to commit to a doomed relationship... rumour has had some sway on me... the other girls told me that her ex didn't actually beat her, but she... beside ploughing him with fists threw knives at him... and... ha ha... she was in her 30s while he was 19.... they met through her son... when this guy was picking up his younger brother from school... why did she ghost me? she can't control me...  in the most recent episode of Billions... don't know if you're familiar... Wendy tries to bribe this Buddhist monk with a tub of vegan, homemade ice-cream... it's different when a man brings a woman his homemade banana loaf and wine... i was peacocking... **** me... if she's not impressed then and there... basically because of that... and from what her past experiences of men should have taught her... then... she ghosting me... i don't think she has anything to learn... Colorado, eh? i'm not English... i have no allegiance to the history of England regarding your country... i'll go as far back as Edward the Confessor, Henry II... but i'm not English... i hope there might be zero animosity between us on this front... i don't care what your take on Englishness is... i just live here... my favourite barber is a Turk, i buy my spices from an Indian merchant... i'm going back to Poland on the 5th to reassurance my grandmother that... Putin will not cross the border... blah blah... man... now that i think about it... you know what i did when this girl ghosted me... on a ******* shift a taste of: voyeurism... she was swiping left, left left left on TINDER... i never used a dating app... but there she is... swiping left left left... it's bad enough that i have a facebook profile... that's ******* embarrassing... but i did set it up when there were restrictions regarding to who could sign up... university students... i have no twitter... why? i write too much... 140 charaters is not going to cut it for me... plus... with this girl... we didn't talk about books, we didn't really talk about movies... well... i mentioned Sunset Boulevard & Bell, Book & Candle... the 1958 movie... my love for vinyl records... our 4th date was supposed to imply i bring a vinyl record and some more of my homemade wine... obviously that didn't happen... mate... it's ****... and from what i read... you're knee deep in some... horror show... i dare say... if H. H. Holmes wanted to build a labyrinth slaughterhouse... he'd base it on your narrative-analysis! i'm not joking! but you know what i did after this rejection? the girl obviously loves her soap opera... her femme-boxers... she just likes to be abused... some people can't help it... it's like that Eurythmics's song: sweet dreams are made of these... who am i to disagree... i travelled the world and the 7 seas... everybody's looking for something: some of them want to use you,
                            some of them want to get used by you,
                              some of them want to abuse you,
                     some of them want to be abused (by you)...
the next big fix on offer? going to a brothel and seeing a *******.. i'm not going to handle rejection like that, not in my 30s, that's simply not going to happen, i was always going to have an auxiliary fall-back to land on, that comes all the more easier with prostitutes, at least they're blatant, obvious, 3-dimensional... at least if you upkeep personal hygiene one might tell you: live dangerously... have *** without a ******... hell... i'm expecting her to bring some marijuana to our next session since... two sessions prior i mentioned that i haven't tried *******... she brought ******* to our last session... tried it... did **** all for me... i prefer coffee... it's like sniffing... a dog-****... with chemical rainbow aftertaste... i was more into her naked body... mate... get out... even if you have to grow a pair of horns or a cranium  thickness of a ram's head... get out... but it's how you opened up... kudos to you... you are most certainly primed for the Beatnilk cut-up technique, oh man, i was a big fan of the Beatniks in my younger years... all that ****-****** literature surrounding William Burroughs... the confused state of "affairs"... i gobbled his books down... Naked Lunch is still one of my all-time favourites... you're on your way, in terms of writing... i will spare you correcting some discrepancies in your messages... although... the grammar-**** in me is tirggered beyond belief...i'm seriously itching at what corrections i see that need to be corrected... but this time... i won't...  i see too miuch of you in me and i hope: not enough of me in you... but at least we can share the similitude of our fates.... to compare... we're not that much mis-aligned... trouble being... i went to the outlet of a *******... to counter her having control...even my neighbour today, who i went going to the shop commented about my **** beard... you need to find other people to please, there are always other people... don't congest yourself with the claustrophobia of this one woman... like my one... oh... she's fit... she's just my type... half Celtic... hair like a sunset...ginger: but not ginger...but she originally wanted to get be sacked for "apparently" drinking alcohol on the job... you can't help them... if she's into being beaten, if she's into soap opera antics... free will is a *****... however much good you want for someone: if they are still adamantly reserved in being receptive to advice... so be it! let go... just let, go... your interest in computers is like my interest in making my own wine... let it go... see a more available third party... you know how much i wish it could be true? but... i just don't feel like being the *******...i don't want to **** myself spiritually in order to win over her heart... sad... i know... i'd like to love her... but if she's only willing to be loved by men that abuse her... Pontius Pilate... i wash my hands clean, of the whole affair... FIAT!

i did sort of warn him... he didn't believe me...
i guess that's perfect:
learning the hard way, from experience.
Matadi Apr 2021
Your wifey she said
The kind I’d come home to every day
Work hard for ,give my check to ,just so you’re okay
Yea you’re independent,just have my baby
You cook good meals ,just like a lady
Well the way my lady should be
You hold your head high like the queen bee
But see   You ain’t ready for me

Imma **** boy
Play with your heart like a toy boy
Like a guitar with no strings
******* good ,you won’t know what to think

See imma call you baby
Treat you like a lady
Look you in the eyes and say this the only place I stay the night
**** **** , **** your calls, wanna text ..that’ll be your best move
Give me a minute,imma get back to you
Love on you good ,but leave you
Giuseppe Stokes Sep 2016
So November's Come,
Hazy leaves deck the trees;
Rotten ****** wrecked the sprecht,
gotta please, gotta tease.
Cotton crusted smile
took the style while spine dumb;
Freeze as whacks churn
spurned, danced to the crime hum.
Early squeeze amidst blitzed spritz, dark romancing,
prancing picket line fum-
bled; Ambled twixt crowds antsing.
Glazed, took prior avenue
espoused culture tazed/
Fazed, ascends erased hub,
Dire mazed/Liar snubbed;
Nah crowd sourced: after-shock stancing/
Corp core flexed waves/paves vexed glancing,
Dropped four, floor to score, music cull en(c)hancing.
Enchantingly out of touch; Butchered lemming dancing.

Rupturous rapturing gospel takes all:
Sports neck line with wreck wine drenched via stall,
Appalling, talling tower looms abroad
Broad took shin dig as grin, fling; swig accord.
Objectified Subject, with verb kept in tow
flits through the fine lines, and cracks in the snow.

Noticed grave shadows, slow; ravens attest
a'Gig'a'Sibling invested in scoping, and chest;
Blooming bioluminescence scatters down/
Frothy broth fairly broiled. Scorn fawning Noun/
Habit forming, tarnished, ab(d)jectified malt-core
Verby? Nun-thank-you-muchly, Mary Mag-dolla store.

.... So November's Come,
Clubbed, stepped and altared.
Brushed away the dark hype
crowd mic check faltered.
Dastardly respite. Psyche.
Planted positively preened
nature:societal fiend
crept crudely, rudely James Deaned.
Pants 'cocked, stewed, steamed',
Megalithic mount gleaned
as posture postulates
cost you fate, spate-spoke-stake, ****-rate
vibrate denatured, protein plucked feud
fueled larger sense of afterlife tense imbued.
Spotted shortly crossèd portly,
tautly tossed courtly cost,
'nawt'ly flossed' possed thoughtly;
Sportly Mossed Kate washed
scene brimmed/beamed/loved
'Leaned' fussed. Trussed team musk/
Stock puppet power-aid, raid's pretty husk.
****** sidekicks show side slicks, stuck chiming bitty.
Flickering afterdark lark glistens, gritty-city-fitty.
Bought distorted Faster Mark, Narc acrossed shark,
passed past the Rasta Park, embarked'n'stashed arc.

Dark the dreams that crept to the fallen gate/
dazzled gems and hellish rhinestones irk fate.
Grated joy, plated coyly, then doff broke;      
spoke symphony of fattened tire/wire frame joke;
Took twisted lyre, choir, to tame my europa,
maybz next time a better luck'n'fly my eloper,
clucky chickens plucked/fussed/cussed, a fitting trend,
Spare parts missing neural heart; a plasticated end.
Moonbeam Aug 2020
I was never special, I meant nothing to you
That became clear when you searched for someone new
I gave you my heart and you just took a peek
Pretending you loved me was so ******* weak
You hated how I could read your actions— that I saw through
All the lies and your energy and everything you do
You couldn’t hide, even though you tried
Your ****** behavior, I wouldn’t let slide
You’d gaslight me, and I’d question my perspective
Then I realized I was the only one being reflective
I’ve been here before and I see you’re a narc
I know your games, you can’t hide in the dark
You love bomb in the beginning then you take it away
Everything is a lie, I can’t believe what you say
I thought you were special—someone real
I didn’t realize how well you could fake the way you feel
I fell for it again, when will I ******* learn?
I can’t just give away my heart, it’s something to earn
Stíofáinín Aug 2020
Sunshine,
We’ve expired
I’m leaving now,
emotions are tired
I cleaned your room while you were gone
I don't linger here for too long
I never expected you to see,
all the wrong that you do to me
but I waited with time,
Only wanting what can't ever be mine
Hey now, just come along
I love you, wake up,
before I’m gone
Can I crawl all over you again?
So you can try to play pretend,
like this isn’t just a means to an end
Then you can love me once again
And I’m here asking myself why the hell you put me on a shelf
Act you don’t give a f*
all so you can cut me up,
one more time
I guess that’s the only way to keep it off your mind
Oh so heart-wrenching, how can you even draw breath inside?
Could you tell the truth and still survive?
Do you not think that I can see, all the lies that you’ve told me?
But go on, you can always love me again
And I’ll still be here asking why you need to pretend,
And turn yourself into stone
All you are is flesh and bone
Come on and cut me up one more time, you always said I’d be just fine
It really must be very tough
to know that you were never good enough
Just pretend like you never started this
Can you even call that a parting gift?
No applause before this end
Changed your mind,
Hand in mine...
same old smile
So come on and cut me up one last time
Tell yourself you know I’m fine…
I guess it really must be rough
To not ever give a single f
Phoenix Rising Mar 2017
Jumping beans,
itchy fiends.
Pop a couple
and feel like a queen.

Slave to the high,
I like to lie...
I don't know why.
Sunglasses in the dark,
I ain't no ******' narc.

Party till my heart drops,
or until the neighbors call the cops.
**** me softly,
or not.
I don't like to talk.
(do enjoy frolicking gently imaginatively)

County seat, of Mason County,
   Washington, United States
westernmost city on Puget Sound
   above ground sans tectonic plates

population 9,834 per 2010 census
   end result from biological mates
maintains commission form
   of government drafted by mandates.

Shelton served by small steamboats
   comprising Puget Sound Mosquito Fleet
Old Settler, Irene, Willie, City of Shelton,
   Marian, Clara Brown, & S.G. Simpson
   logging, farming, dairying, ranching
   & oyster cultivation for populace to eat

Simpson Timber Company mill
   on Puget Sound's Oakland Bay over yon
   dominates landscape of the down
   town area as essential heart beat
Shelton identifies the "Christmas
   Tree Capital" sold by the ton.

47°12′49″N 123°6′22″W (47.213702,
   -123.106088) coordinate bench mark
   total area of 5.9 square miles (15 km2),
   of which 5.6 square miles (15 km2) land

0.3 square miles (0.78 km2) (5.60%)
   water laps with an occasional errant shark
   in a pinch captured, processed and canned
a delicacy that fin de siecle bony
   illegal ***** fined by the oceanic narc.

well nigh two and a half decades in the past
   this poet trekked across America
   beginning in a place called Gap
Pennsylvania  - where stockpile
   of Amish goodies barely did last
   and vanished in a gingerly snap

of fingers, which necessitated
   sustenance when van fueled i.e. gassed
   up while myself or the other
   driver stole a short nap
seduced to sleep by syncopated tires

   as highway miles passed
   inching closer to youngest sister
   via this linear transcontinental lap
destination Seattle Washington
   indigenous iconic statue cast.

Ronald Strickland a fine companion
(posted bulletin for traveling fine companion
at Hostelling International - Chamounix Falls Mansion
West Fairmount Park),

   and boone story teller to boot
about my age (now five decades plus nine)
   then trying to rake in some loot
by writing about his travels,

   yet unpretentious and not able
   to square an Apple pi circle
   nor, calculate square a root
perhaps one day, I will surprise him
   with a call and give him a toot.
Barton D Smock Nov 2016
they don’t tell you
when you have a baby
about the shrinking
babies
do.

we bought a smaller bird
but few
noticed.

we made friends, women

with lights
on their shoes, men

sold
on mittens…

we sent nudes
to the author

of babies
eat
sleep.

our mailman
he caught us
dancing
and threatened us
with an audiobook
on baptism

and that
was the end
of mail.

we sold headgear
we volunteered
to sell
headgear, put an ashtray

on the roof
as lure
for longing

that
of memory’s
narc…
Yo they banned my lyrics from TV cuz it's a dark energy raising my folks in the community made for unity now they wanna use thee and abuse thee
For their democracy **** that I'd rather get sticked with a mack to my back but only to come back
And make war and more gore
I be everlasting like a Black Caesar bullets to feed ya
Mental cuz of my verb'al is leth'al gettin' more green than AL
How can ya mend a broken heart that's was made in the dark ?
Light me a spark to melon ain't no tellin' what's sailin'
On my brainwaves cuz these days fools ain't got nothing to say
That's why I slay til they vocals decay
Cloned from a God black universe comin' outta my spiritual hearse
Buried my physical to up my mentals feel the pressure I inject on you
Til you turn midnight blue don't worry it's just crossover flu
Lower the degrees see how many bodies I can freeze from the sneeze of a desert eage
Suckas retrieve once I get the droppin' the philosophy
My flows air tight fight with all of my might til I say my last goodnight I'll keep flowin' til the winds blowin'
Out the industries candle can't none handle
Disappear in the dark but like a narc
I'm every corner though I'm banned I'll still get around like street contraband
A funky brother, on the cameo, blazin, hot on ya radio,
Sayin there he go, with the sickest flow, oh you know,
How I mo, gets down, like james brown, running cross towns,
Millions, miles away, from the beats that say, talk this way,
I wish I could fly away, all the pain that, loves to stay,
I sway, from the bs, o yes, watch a narc manifest, nest,
I play it, like a game of chess, miss the sickness,
Cold world we living in, hurts but I, really just needed a friend,



Lay out the track,for white ricans, and black, imagine that,
A world, with no grey stats, grace laid welcome mats,
See where yo hearts at, reign pitty to sleep, watch peeps,
That be watching me, from a radio, personalities, papers, TV,
I'm spinning off, the LP, jams nothing but oldies, hold the,
Crown of hip hop, to the highest, magnify this, crisp,
Gotta keep it going, flowing, like a river, as I deliver,
Rhymes that'll, even make the universe shiver,
Shimmy shimmy ya ya, dont diss the godfather, saw ya,
Tryna, make a shady deal, but I still, got no hate, to fill,
In my soul, stroll slowon gods roads, miss the crossroads,
But many bones, was laid, from thugs, we need hugs,
And put down the slugs, as I dug, in ya mind, without a grudge,
Let's get this money mayne, and join the Ojays love train,  
But most rather see the end, put to the chips to the pen, then,
Pray for me, and my others sins, folks, ain't really listening,
Too busy suckin trends, in dire needs, of a really good friend



Classic, bombastic, rap-tastic, zip the ****, out of the plastic,
Make magic, melodies, when ya follow the symphony,
Mahogany to ebony, same color to me, feel these, keys,
I borrowed, from stevie, wonder laid the thunder, under,
The sun, with no clouds, draw crowds, no fakes allowed,
As I make, like a fan shroud, all out doors, coolin'ya pores,
As I shore, the flows, in ya brain, strikes, like a tide,
Yo it's insane, going off the tip of the brian, major pain,
When ya try, to step me, the god glow, soul touch seventies,
Millenial legacy, who better it be, layout fake, frenzy benzie,
Sitting stack, while I ride to the track, hip hop flavors, is back  
Again, still got my bottle, of gin, and in the end, well be rollin,
Down memory lane, radio blastin', causing haters shame,
Guts and glory, clutch like Horry,this is that real love, not just another category,
For ya to bump, in ya mentality, I rip the mics, like Jordan be,
Breakin' out, on the goalie, welcome to camp, rhapsody,
Killer title, I ride even for my rivals, heart for the survival,
Of the fittest, witness, to many mobbing deep, I'll put chaos, to sleep,
Reap, what ya sow, play the biz, like domino, sicker style galore,
Giving you more, once again,
Flavors rocking, meditating ya skin, feelin, the needs of a friend,
I do it, for the funk, I ride out the junk, pieces of pie, chunks
Only a few candle, handle the crumbs, of hip hop,
We drop, nothing but crazy hits, traveling, back to time,
ahh ****
Rori Helsley Feb 2019
My pain was shame,
My truth made the last of her love
Evaporate.

As a child I no longer remain,
No longer to be controlled.

Living in a world of realities,
Not limited by one.

In this choice,
I lost my mum.

For expressing my voice,
When the built up turmoil,
Abuse blew up.

A narc who'd offered the highest
Highs,
With continious drama and viper
Ties.

Never to take responsibility or
Apologise for sinister actions.

More concerned,
For how she appears and how
She is yearned.

Never wanting to learn
Or
To devastion of how she's burnt

— The End —