6/666/777
if man is 5 and the devil is 6 then that must make me 7. this honky's gone to heaven.
and if i go to hell, than i hope i burn well...
this isnt angst.
this isnt some fucking conquest.
this isnt some appeal to some temporary skank.
this isnt a pithy domination of established leverage.
this isnt some posture to assert feigned understanding.
this isnt the game, played for keeps,
accumulating the rarest cards for future trade.
this isnt a manipulative campaign to ensure the subjugated
addict remains in possession.
i am not a braggart,
and i am not forlorn.
i am not collecting a roster of cards with which to place up my sleeve,
cheating in a game of codependence.
the ulterior motive is nonexistent.
the observation of all of the above will be taken out of context.
the red flags will be ignored, rotten teeth perceived endearing.
bulbous and disheveled, bombastic proclamations
inevitably impress.
the under dog syndrome.
the wounded stray, in need of rescue.
the loner who openly begs for adoration.
the overt braggart, playing to an audience induced.
the control freak, contriving future subjugation.
the seed planted,
lather, rinse, repeat.
cultivate addiction,
sever ties to maintain control.
feed addiction.
upon reactive rejection, play the victim.
hoard sympathy for regret,
use sentimentalism as a mechanism for
control.
use substance dependence as a mechanism
for control.
threaten those outside of manipulative machinations
with suicide.
dangle the hook with no bait.
watch the starving fish snare their mandible in desperation,
no food in sight.
upon recovery, stroke the heart strings
and hug.
play the game and lose.
buyer beware.
(666)
crappy post, sloppy host.
