Tag Archives: predator
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.
With old patterns faltering in the wake of time, serving him less and less; desperation creeps, then slowly sets in.
Searching for something real to cling to; in a world of illusion and cheap parlor tricks; of which he created and has always dwelled.
Better to be an imaginary somebody, than a real no body; his platform, his soapbox, his mission, his salvation.
Spewing his gospel as weightless as smoke rings, growing bored with his half dozen converts; unable to stroke his monstrous ego; he sees only one place left to go.
One soul he touched. Upon a time was touched by. He refuses to release and let go. Disguised as forgiveness, he sets about his mission; back to the only arms left, that wait wide open.
Naïve and weak, yet privy to his ways; a masochist for certain, to take him back in. She is not the reason, but merely a convenience. Providing him shelter, buying him time; bringing him closer to where he believes salvation resides.
The beautiful butterfly, with delicate wings; once so fragile, easily ravaged; consumes his thoughts, still rules his darkness; and so true to predator form, of which he will always be, he sets about stalking, making connections; broadcasting his relation, as if guaranteeing him a position. Wasting time, sniffing and searching; for the butterfly has morphed, long ago taken flight.
And so time ticks on, for this wasted life; over educated and under achieved. When he could have soared to the greatest of heights; been a true inspiration, perhaps a revered master. But the only expertise, he can lay claim in the end; is leaving a trail of pain, in the wake of his disaster.
Dear Veronica Lake,
The truth of us.
Something you believe only the two of you share; yet something we’ve all been forced to wonder about. We too had a truth in an airport, he and I; just as he had truths made up of lies with a plethora of intelligent, creative, beautiful, loving, soulful women; all of which were spoon-fed the exact same line, differing only slightly, as the situation, circumstance and female heart warranted.
At this point, you refuse to believe that which your mind has forced you to wonder of; as your heart precariously dangles by a soul string. Wanting so much to believe that he is who he says, that YOU are the twin of his flame, the mate of his soul and yours is the only connection that is real and matters. Refusing to believe that what you shared during your time together meant nothing, when it meant and still means, absolutely everything to you.
Finally realizing, for the first time in your life, since your karmic connection, that YASS, this is the way it was intended. Finally another soul on earth, who understands you like none other. No judgments; just complete, unconditional acceptance and love. Exactly what you always knew, in the depths of your soul, love was supposed to be. Every wasted moment and past mistake leading to this crossroad that brought the two of you together….
Ignoring the red flags, due to his lifetime membership within the upper echelons of intelligencia. Stories of his dysfunctional and abusive childhood, which as a mother you can surely sympathize. His self-destructive pain and angst, leading him to long for death; his only comfort found within darkness’ welcome embrace; singing always that sweet song of stygian.
Believing in your heart that your love for him can and will make a difference; that happiness can be found and shared, if only he would allow himself to trust, believe and take your hand. At this point, your perception of your own reality so skewed that you know for certain the only way to survive this life is with him by your side.
Wake up, love. This isn’t a classic movie you’re starring in; this is your life you’re allowing him to fuck with. There’s an antidote for those of us who have been infected with this disease; the first step is realizing you want and need to be cured.
The sooner you realize that there is no truth where the Hyena is concerned and the only reason he will ever come back is if there is something he needs from you, which he cannot provide for himself; the better off you and yours will be.
The only way to get back to living is by killing the Hyena. He must become dead to you in order to see and accept the truth; the only truth there is of him. The one too many of us have come to know…