I bestow· you this , swain . . .

Seized while unaware· and vulnerable ,

the elixir I’d been put· on to “help” me had affected my instincts;

my doors were wide open· .

Before I was ever narcotized,

before I was paying someone· to fill· my basket· with wishes ,

that same basket· I had dropped so long· ago , was empty· , and I planned tokeep· it that way· .

I know· it’s all worthless· when put· to use· in the real· world .

No one in this dominion· wants your invisible wishes , or that tattered old basket·.

Sure , they postulate· , surmising an oasis· that appears in the mostpreposterous· location· . . .

Like , they are selling you time· in a padded room· that can appear· anytime youhave· a fit· .

Then you run· to it and it’s got everything you think· you need , and it feels safe .

There’s hope , trust· , forgiveness . . . anything seems possible· in this paddedroom· they are pushing on you .

In this sanctuary· that seems all but imagined , something will happen· .

“What happened to me ? “ , you ask· .

Some fortifications that were erected as absolute· hindrances ,

forged in order· to ensure· safety· from all I’ve survived; don’t want· to survive it again and don’t think· I could .

But they come· down , all the safety· glass , the nets , the barricades , and I was left exposed .

Hook , line· , and sinker , cast· into the middle of the ocean and left there , dangling with “bait” written all over you .

I will say· this:His timing was perfect· , because I had been buying what my psychotherapist was trafficking , pushing , like the newest high· on the streets . .

I hand· fed him all the ammo he needed straight into his clip· .

I ran to the target· .

I tore it down and practically begged him to use· me instead .

So , of course· he did , because he’s a bottom· feeder· and they aren’t finicky·eaters . . .

not in the least…

because once I lured him with all that material· , he’d lured me into thatdenigration· he wove like silk . . .

he wove it right· around my neck , my hands· , my feet . . .

Just like it was a prelude· to my most precious , fairy tale· come· true· .

After he’d made sure· I was secured in his ingot· ,

he came close· to me , or said he did , because the rest· is lost on me and I’m still reeling , giddy even , I don’t remember· a thing .

once he was close· enough to kiss me , he took a taste· of me instead , a nip· , abite· .

You see· , what I didn’t know· and what didn’t even occur· to me is that he’s an emotional predator· . the worst kind· because they take· what they’ve accumulated through bleeding bits of truth· and hurt from you through a lie .

He was so indiscriminate that he devoured even my most rotten meat; the meat·of my heart· . Though it was , almost inedible . Toughed up from being broken so much , mishandled , and thrown away like common· litter .

I try· to know· that those parts of me that are dysfunctional , fractious· , and broken , it may even not be· my fault· , but just try· and tell· me that . I dare· you .

yet these things still managed to turn· parts of me acrid· and would never have·been edible· .
Not to anyone , no one , only even lower life· forms than him . . . if those evenexist· .

but for him it was as if it were a feast· fit· for a King .

So, he gorged himself on me; bloating already.

It wasn’t until then that my brain· finally let· me in , divulging all of it , finally .

with someone· like Me , he knew precisely what he was doing .

Psychological sadism , and I was his prey· .

This is the act· of pirating someones hopes , fears , dreams , and all I’d worked so hard· to ameliorate .

Now, it’s all gone again.

and if that wasn’t enough,

it was never enough,

it wasn’t sufficient to have· already ruined the whole· of me that I’d become· , and had been working so hard· on . . .

as he drifted towards the door,

he was emitting an air· of stench· ,

it smelled like elation· , exaltation· , glory· . . .

He took one last· look· back at the mess· he’d made of me ,

and just like a one night stand· ,

the nameless stranger in the morning to accompany· your hangover ,

he halts and looks down at something , something of great· interest· , but I can’tsee· what it is .

Then he smiles that toothy smile· that was still hosting a party· to welcome my rotten flesh· between every tooth· . . .

Then he picks up the object· of such great· interest· .

It’s my remote· control· , the all in one universal one .

It controls everything and nothing works without it,

and so , he took it . . . barely even slowing his gait· or missing a beat· ,

like he’s done it a million times, and he probably has.

I’m just one more…

and I’m sure· there would be· even more . . . except ,

because between just us,

he’s just feasted on feelings that I’d never even felt,

me being as detached as I am…

and I know· that since he didn’t get· to devour the real· thing , only the superficial acts of what I thought they should be· portrayed .

he’s digesting the toxins that had taken over me so many years· ago . . .

and he’s now just hours· from ending up just like he’d made me . . .

a mess· .