So now . waited 3:19 am.
A border line crossed again. And as rejections pile up, and have reached a significant barrier, ( last straw her husband my great slkmeball of a son in law, unlocks the safe lock on the smart phone)
Gotten some juicy private stuff well proofed ) probably thinks he’s gotten some kind of heavy ammo into an Achilles heel), bi compromising replicas.
Why he do that? because he is desperate, finding her indiscreet with someone at work?!?
Well phi-phy, cause taking care of his kid, while spending his time in locked garage grumbling, she has straight jib, while he chews uppers and gets xrazy, think in of payback, his partner kicked him out took his money for grass business, now he’s up the creek without paddle.
Thinking acceptance is what I seek, and a petty auto da fe to maybe self destruct with ; will bother the hell out of me.
Well, no.
At the point of the end of despair, will just use his new found ammo, as intrigue to outguess who will blink.
After all the most conservative reproach from life mate will consist of things she ling suspected, and Murphy’s law will not work to self annihilate, only carry me to succeed to write of the eclipse of humiliation.
For the biggest charm in this life so far has been the grand achievement of private jest , it’s political residue
and the real and/or imagined glee upon discovery, hey I got goods on the fucker.
No, not here, not me.
Try me I will shadow him, as he imagines being some kind of scarion of a vulture circling around a withering soul, and that is ulterior to his preposterous unsuspecting enemy: the one closest and nearest to yours truly.
The black sun has shown his cruel rays on Harry Crosby, before, Caress and the desert crowd of Tangiers in a very private descriptive relation.
It’s 3 am and the deal’s delicious feel of discovery pitting my innards against his excrement finding a purified exit to manage with some degree of finesse and dignity…
How much out who knows, maybe will leave it for him to find.
As to the politics here its all healthy and in sync with eyes vampire batted, as voltures praying making for better course agreeing with assessments of this rotting to the core, human nature defiled, but a bound and pedigreed workaholic, whose only mission amounted to living his little list grandson, to whom he promised a level of secure fidelity the scumbag can’t?
When they shacked, he commendingly started with how I’m everything his Backyard of a father wasn’t, and it started with a promise. Me tinkering in the kitchen and cooking up delicacies for his wanting palate, whereas now needs and tidbit paranoias into veiled blackmails, even shaking small caliber into face a surmising grin, on threat of slights to disbondage.
He knows she has this boyfriend at work, holding down a job, straight and clean, not using and hiding in garages to a compromising and compensating high, and getting the goods on an ego threat.
And yet she lives him, sleeping through the day, waiting for her to come home from work,
take it easy, not get family get to you, sure , if it was up to me, but love can do strange things that have little whithall to, and it is so mixed with all that went on before, enough to pre form a reasonable lobotomy forth with.
Got to run, knowing out there, in the vast steppes of internet spaces, stretched out far and wide, the worn mind of cliches serve faithfully no one. As one of Becket’s cubicle tenants in how it is, will make very little difference in the big scheme of things.
(Actually it was 3 am here per rule) & (scratched unwarranted ad-hominem so lest appearances lead the way.)
Made me laugh - sorry! Middle of the road is dangerous, and totally unjustifiable. My fault!
