When you stop behaving like a human being and cross over into monster territory, all human rights should be stripped away. At that point you become a lab rat; studied and dissected, until the answer to, “What the fuck is WRONG with people” is found.
Unless it simply boils down to some people being borne into the world with evil in their souls, in which case exorcism should become the norm and not a fictional hot topic for entertainment purposes.
Let’s face it; state sanctioned prison rehabilitation was not created to save lost souls.
That is all.
©2013 jill terry
There comes a certain “feel,” no matter where you happen to be, whenever his thoughts turn in your direction.
It starts at the basic level of the flesh; like the cool breeze on a crisp autumn night; tantalizing and chilling all at once.
Your blood pressure rises, heart rate increases, as he sends invisible waves of desire, cascading in your direction.
At the sound of his voice, a chemical reaction triggers, and suddenly you are seized; with a mix of exhilaration and excitement like none other you have ever known.
A connection is what he seeks; the ability to reach out and snatch you from reality; pulling you into his realm of illusion; with nothing more than his thoughts and voice.
Once he connects, the feeding begins; everything you want to hear, anyone you want him to be; larger than life, too good to be true; having searched for eternity and now loving only you.
Before you can blink, you are on a downward spiral; surrendered completely while careening out of control.
He drains you empty, while filling you up; taking every scrap offered, pillaging the rest while you dream.
Making his exit as quickly as he comes; a puddle of nothing, you remain on the floor. Left alone, to sift through the pain; cloaked in his filthy blanket of noir.
He stole away
Under the cloak
Over weary hunched
Calling it love
Leaving a trail
Of broken bits
Wherever he goes
His was a miserable life; wandering the globe pretending to be lost, feigning insanity due to all sorts of abuse; self-inflicted, youthful demons victim, to any and all who showed the slightest inclination of interest. In truth, he knew exactly where he was going, what the cost would be to get there; needing only to cross paths with enough unsuspecting souls to help him reach his final goal.
His mantra; a worn out stanza touting suicidal tendencies, despair and angst; deviously reaching out, spewing his seed deep into the core of one vulnerable victim after another. Setting his life on cruise control; riding the tides at the expense of others; completely void of moral conscience. Reveling in his cunning; laughing yass…Yass…YASS!!!
Glorifying and romanticizing his untimely demise; misunderstood soul, plagued to the point of suicide; lamented by the masses, singing his praises; his spirit rising, watching from above. Egomaniac, if ever there was. Imagining himself, even in death; the center of attention, in the form of ash.
What he didn’t equate in the miles obsessively tracked, was the road itself reaching up; in the cloak of darkness, snatching his pathetic ass. There would be no bright light, no tunnel of peace; only a blazing ball of fire, an eternity of scorching heat.
The spell broken at the moment of death; his pact with the devil signed and sealed; damaged souls once broken, now healed. A fitting adieu; to one who once declared that Karma is but a word…
Hearing the truth
The ugly truth
Trying hard to process
What it really means
Was always a bitter pill
But somehow easier to swallow
At least when there was something
A reason on which to blame
An innate inability
A falsity I now
Am forced to ingest
For the veil has been lifted
On his façade of mental illness