Rape the world,
thieve its purity and goodness,
destroy its patience and calm,
ravage its body with unhealing scars,
burn its petals unfurled.

Steal the heart,
shatter its frosted glass,
melt its willing flesh,
beat its love and yearning,
savage its beauty and art.

I am experiencing the ravages of life - those little stresses that add up until they consume you. Ever see star trek and the weebles? (If they were called that) You know, those furry little things that would populate worse than bunnies on steroids.

Meanwhile I am bruised, grumpy and eagerly waiting for the last of them to leave my life - slowly shedding them one by one until nothing remains except me.

Indifferent, I walk this earth, blind to the life around me. Each fall of my step comes in slow motion as the blood freezes like ice in my veins. Nothing remains but the hollow echoes and the muted sighs of the life around me. I lift my black gaze skywards and wait, patient, for the clouds to open up and release the vapor of your tears.

Only this for today…maybe I will write more later.

Warmth eludes me and I am caught in the embrace of cold resolve. My will hardens itself against you; the sharp pain of self-denial ravages my thoughts. Your touch is as fleeting as a warm breath in my winter, disappearing until only the evanescent trace remains to keep me company. Alone in my darkness, able to hear the echo of my own breath and I still would choose this emptiness over you.

Do you ever grow tired of your neutrality? Don’t you ever tire of yielding your opinion by watering it down and making it a palatable version of what you truly feel? Do you ever crave the honest words of someone just because it is welcome warmth and sun into your dark and cold world?

I wonder if you even understand what it is I ask. Do you care that you have become a dispassionate person, capable of espousing only the publicly accepted stance on any given topic?

Kill me before this death can arrive at my door. Destroy me before I see myself die slowly, choked by the fear that one day, one day, someone will not like my opinion or that I might have to defend it.

It will not arrive at my door as it has yours. I refuse to cowl and hide myself and my opinion under the veil of sugar which you use to hide yours. I refuse to coat my words and my demeanor to make it easier for you to exist. I refuse to dull my blade so that some person, whom I do not know and do not care about, can live easier for even one fucking second.

I will not yield to your world. You may have your neutral shades of gray and black. You may have your weak and flavorless existence. While you dine on acceptance, my beacon will resonate. It will guide my way in dark times and in light and when finally, my hour comes, I will be able to say, I did not yield and you did not break me.

A woman, nailed to a lacquered black cross, blood pouring slowly from her wounds and puddling on the floor. Her back arched up as much as she can afford, the strain only increasing as she pulls on the thick spikes that hold her in place. Her face wet with tears - her body jerking with silent sobbing as she tries to adjust to the sensation of pains that course through her. She is in agony.

It is night, the weather cool, a start contrast to the warmth that pulses under her skin. The crack of thunder is followed quickly by lightening, illuminating her straining form. She cries out as rain begins to pour, washing away the puddles that she has worked so hard to create.

A man, sits watching this quietly, his fingers stroking along the grip of a sledge hammer.

Fascinating. Catholics everywhere are worried for me.

The previously listed listless mood as now morphed into a full blown rage. Beware - my temper is out for blood.

I hate the man that now dates my mother. He is a scum bag piece of shit and I will god damned if he will lay a hand on her. I foresee a massive blow out, something of course, he will lose because he has the mental capacity of a fart. I have already let him know, and her, where I stand on their relationship. Screw anyone but him.

A picture of who he is:

He is jobless.
He has not paid taxes in 10+ years and the IRS is after him for well over $200,000.
He has been to jail for 2 years, for a crime he was later acquited of. (That is questionable as all the others involved in the case when to jail for 20 years.)
He is seeking to sue the government for what he calls false imprisonment.
He has an explosive temper.
He is afraid of me and maligns me behind my back. (I already have tussled with him and won.)
He is bearded, gap toothed and a hick of first order.
He is easily manipulated by the simplest of info-mercials.

What she sees in him, I have no idea. This is my mother and were it anyone else, I would just let them self destruct together. I thought she had some intelligence.

I think I used all of my energy over the last few days and today I am barely able to manage the effort to type even this note. My limbs have an invisible weight on them so that every effort is drawn out and takes twice as long and twice as much effort. I am not moody. It is more of having a desire not to do a damn thing. However, clean I will. I just do not think I will be able to complete much else.

Have you ever felt like your head was too much weight for your neck? I am that drained.

Sadistic Excess - An abundance of evil that cumulates in one being - it drives him to push the tolerance of pain, to crush the body and wrap his bloody and talon’d fingers around the soul of the one he devours. Sadistic Excess - As much a torment to him as it is her, a black that has wrapped around him like a cloak of night - swallowing him whole, leaving nothing but the evanescent trace of what was there before.

For the next person that asks, this will be my answer.

Manipulation itself is neither good nor bad, its overall appearance is determined ultimately by the manipulator and often judgment of that action is determined by the one being manipulated.

That having been said - I refuse to deal with any passive aggressive people who utilize this method of interaction. I have seen it employed by several lately and it sickens me to no end. Do not expect me to guess your motives, and don’t be upset when you do not get the reaction you expected. I am my own person.

That certain feeling that compels action to seek the end you desire. Passion is nothing more than an empty excuse to justify why you had to do something. It is a way of detaching yourself from your actions - the passive way of defusing blame. People accept it. For some reason, it is easier to accept someone was driven to do it by passion than to accept that they purely and sadistically calculated their every action. - Why?

It is an amazement that there aren’t more people strangling their lovers.

I need, I want, I was lost, I couldn’t…all of those are excuses for your ultimate decision.

Take responsibility. Tell them you decided – you chose – you acted on your thought. If they don’t like it, they can go screw themselves. You did what was right.

Double Cable Slapper - JT’s Stockroom

Very nasty. On my ’soon to purchase’ list.

I am sure this has meaning for one of my readers.

If my will were reality, my mind would ignite those that stood in my path. They would combust in blue flame, their flesh would melt from their skin, their muscle would turn to ash, their bone would crumble under the slightest of breeze.

If my will were reality, I would suck their emotion from them and cripple them in the cold world of abject hunger. They would crave the warmth of my skin and yet, still forever be denied its touch.

If my will were reality, I would be able to kill the beast in me that wants this all.

My will is not reality. At least, not yet.

1 - foul, black and malignant mood.

It birthed from seemingly nothing. Yet with it, I have driven away no less than 12 people. 2 are pissed, 3 are crying and one is currently unknown (she left after making the comment that I was pushing her away) - the rest, well they just left before it got to them. Fucking cowards. Sometimes a fight is just what I want. I can control someone with their own anger and I like it. Tomorrow they will be mewling beasts at my door, peering their inquiring noses around the door to see if the rage has left me. No. This one is sticking around for a fucking while. Deal with it.

The one I expected to linger, was the first to leave. Afraid or trying to preserve the peace? Who the fuck knows. She is the one that knows how mean I can be during these times. Still I curse her for leaving me to wallow in my own rage even as I know she had no choice but to dive for cover. I would make her cry before the night is out just to see her tears.

I want to smash my fist into someone and howl at the top of my lungs over their weak, pathetic and quivering body. Male, female, it doesn’t matter. I will win. I have drive at the moment that hell itself would fear. I am a demon of first order. I obey none, but am driven by instinct to kill, destroy and conquer. Less than a man, but more than a God. I am almighty.

I despise the blackness that envelopes me – it is a force that lives and breathes on your tears and blood. I want to tear my name into your flesh until your blood puddles around our feet – my rage beaten into your bruised skin. You are mine to bend to my will and mine to release my sadistic will upon. I will crush you, only to allow you to rise again. It is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega.

The apple has passed before me and I have avoided the temptation of taking a bite of its flesh. All the poetic crap aside, had the apple not said no; I certainly would have taken a bite. See, Adam only needed the apple to tell him to back the fuck off. Forbidden fruit or not doesn’t really matter here - she is mine. I cannot help but feel my palms itch when she nears.

I will assume, of course, that this is an exercise for my character. That is what everything becomes when I do not get what I want. Amazing isn’t it the Alpha and Omega can’t get what he wants.

Meanwhile I prowl for the accursed.

Note to self: Hit me when I come to my senses for ever putting up with this shit.

The update: DA didn’t like some things I told her. She said that I had told her in so many words how I felt, but after declaring she had to have a break, came back hours later to apologize for her tantrum. DE is providing me some interesting information - I have yet to decipher her motives. VI messaged and let me know that I am the talk of the ‘town.’ I think she is trying to size me up.

Rumors circulate about me. I get to hear all of them, of course, from my spies that loom in the shadow - including a few that I find amusing. I am rumored to be DA and TA, but I can’t possibly be just myself. I have the same style as someone years past. I have gotten the question if I am from CA several times. Is this the whole syndrome of doubt that plagues the insecure women around here? I can only wait for the rumor to die and the hens to tire of their wagging tongues.

I have made my declaration previously, but have taken no action upon it. Deciding the first victim is tedious. Offers are in the air.

Of course, I could post what SL stated to me, but that would show my unending arrogance. I would much rather you discover that slowly.
On the subject of SL - there is a lot, but not for posting here. She is the reason I am here and certainly the reason you are able to read this.

I am becoming capable of controlling my demons today, but they are, by no means, gone. I just do not want to attract any more attention than I have. I am tired of the constant messaging. I think I will send a few away today. I tire of their chatter. The sadistic side of me is showing, but not so much in the physical sense, but rather in the barbed and lashing whit I have unleashed upon ‘them.’

I am all powerful. The alpha and the omega.

While I acknowledge that this does not reflect the vast majority, it never the less must be addressed because, if they are indeed the minority, they are giving the rest of you a bad name. I love women, most of the time, but the select few do challenge the determination of my resolve in that area.

Case and point - Female 1 sees me dominating another female 2 and has a concern - which, of course, being passive aggressive and filled with cowardice, she (female 1) does not bring to me. She (female 1) instead uses her leverage over the female I have recently controlled (female 2), to ask the female (female 2) to back off. Female 2 being the usual type to want to make everyone happy, does just that, even though it is obviously pissing her off to do so. She cites desire to avoid drama. Naturally, she (female 2) will not tell me who did this, which leaves me to conclude my own things. I responded that I have no desire to be remote controlled by some unknown user.

Case 2 - Earlier this very same day, my partner for an event backs off for unknown reasons. She too, is friends with any of the 4 women I suspect of being the above (female 1). It seems, odd, but I accept her reasoning.

My resolve: To fuck any and everyone possible with the exception of 4 people who fall within my category of suspicion. I am never far off anyhow. I already have it narrowed down to 1 person in my head, but acknowledging that I am not always right, will allow that it could be someone else.

Back to my initial point - Women are:
1. Conniving
2. Submissive only when they are around people stronger than them, but backstabbing when they are not
3. Liars
4. Cowards
5. Manipulative
6. Vindictive

Of course, I could present other character flaws and assets that fall into this situation, but I believe this basically covers it. It is one sided and will likely piss someone off, but I really could care less.

I love women in spite of everything they do to cripple the decision to do so. I have found several exceptions to this rule. These exceptions have done nothing to be lumped in with the rest. I can only say that I hope the majority follow their lead and take the high road.