Absent.

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Dear stranger,

Your opinion of me

Is about as misplaced

As the. Dot

In this sentence

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

 

Morbid Curiosity.

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When the curtain lifts

You play the part of the victim

Sharing sob stories with anyone willing to lend an ear

You tell them how much you’ve struggled

How much you’ve failed at overcoming life’s obstacles.

 

You tell them how much you appreciate having them around

You make it clear how you would be lost without them

Through your meticulously curated vulnerability

You advertise honesty, harmony

And the promise of stability.

 

And of course, a willing listener eats it all up

Charmed by your words,

Feeling power as you cement their worth.

I’m almost tempted to say I feel sorry for them.

Almost.

Because they don’t know you; the real you

Not like I do.

 

See, you’re not the victim you claim to be;

No, far from it. You’re a predator, the worst kind,

You don’t lurk in the grass but hide in plain sight.

You take the truth, and if it fails to illicit –

The intended reaction, you mould it –

By God, you mould it, as much as possible,

Till it unquestionably does.

 

You pretend to be weak and vulnerable

To pacify and to placate,

Till those that choose to listen

Begin to believe defending you is not beyond reason.

 

Connection, or whatever your misguided mind chooses to call it

Isn’t about deepening bonds, not to you,

Your endgame is establishing power over those around you,

It’s what gets you off, isn’t it?

Switching roles on those you’ve baited into trusting you,

Twisting the narrative is a given

If it means your agenda is fulfilled.

 

You push and you probe because lord knows,

You need to know everything, to be a step ahead,

A testament to your fear of being irrelevant

Your sob stories (I would have you know)

Mean nothing to me,

Your conquests doubly so.

 

You will continue to think you know me

You will continue to think you have everyone fooled

God-willing you eventually gain enough sense

To question why I keep you around despite.

It’s not to beat you at your own game, that’s ridiculous,

A single fool within our midst is more than enough.

Never in my life would I have thought –

I’d come across someone so lost.

I am not ashamed to admit

I have kept you around for purely selfish reasons

You’re a particularly rare breed on the spectrum of the deluded

Makes me curious to see how it all ends.

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: snatti89

 

 

LIVE.

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Time, to you, can be viewed as a straight line

Somehow going somewhere.

Relish in my way of thought for a bit

And you will perchance see how I visualize it.

Time, to me, is a complex knot

Entangled, never moving;

Stuck in the same spot.

 

What you’ve concluded as the passage of time

Is instead, a single moment.

A single moment that has stayed the same with no change.

There has never been a then, just a now.

The futility of my curiosity towards what comes next

Has only been rewarded by my newfound ability

To suppress unchecked inquisitiveness.

 

You speak highly about a life long-lived

Based on a metric dictated 

By a terrestrial unit of measurement.

It takes the lifespan of a mayfly

To give you much-needed perspective.

You only think you live long

Because the world is full of things that die faster.

 

It’s just like me, isn’t it?

To break everything down to its fundamentals.

I wish my way of thinking could be described as a gimmick;

That would most certainly help your psycho-analysis.

But go ahead and ask me, the answer is always a constant

Days? Months? Weeks? Apart from herding everyone in mutual directions

All mean nothing to me.

 

Day and night? Right. It’s a relay

And Earth’s residents are simply taking turns with the sun.

You can ritualize the process of the earth moving on an invisible rotisserie

For as long as you please, but to then expect me

To give it nearly as much weight as you do?

Well, you’re the one who’s always going on about fate

Would it be too much to ask if I leave that part to you?

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: kevron2001