Once he was someone I considered a friend. He was someone I could talk to about almost anything; quite an intelligent person at first impression. He was a great tattooist/artist and made a living doing this. I envied him for this, admired him. I even developed some kind of respect for the man.
Eventually it came to light that he was a walking, talking lie. He knew a little enough about many things so as to be able to project this image of intelligence, sensibility and whatnot. He's what cult leaders are made of. He has the ability to convince you that his word is solid, that from all his 'worldly experience' (shyeahh - RIGHT) he knows all -- hence commanding respect from the unsuspecting.
One day, however, he took advantage of this and butted into my life with snaking lies and assumptions based on essentially ... nothing. He caused unnecessary chaos, creating depression and pain that stabbed me deeply.
The pain he caused me and what I went through, he'll never realize.

To know your enemy you must first become his friend.

He never knew of the contempt I now held for him and he believed we still had a friendship. When face to face he acted like the person I once thought he was, talking to me like he never said the things he'd said. He didn't know that I'd been made aware of his backstabbing blabber and that I now knew what he truly thought of me. He had taken this to the point where others believed what he said. Bad move.
Ha! To think I'd once respected this slime bag sage-poser and once considered him a friend.
The more I studied him, many things came into view. As I've already stated, he knew a little enough about many things to be able to project this image of high intelligence. He even had himself fooled, developing an overblown ego. When a person appears to have high self-esteem and confidence in himself, it's very easy to convince others that you definitely know what you're talking about.
I found that in reality, he was leading a life of agony, a life of happiness unfulfilled, stuck in a rut -- so who was he to dole out advice on happiness, much less anything else? In retrospect I have to laugh at some of the conversations we had; I actually took his "sage advice" into consideration at one time. Pitiful. His cheerful demeanor was only the mask of a bitter, evil clown. He was lost himself; how could he guide others? Who was he to pass judgment on others?
Somehow he was able to fool too many of us.
But I digress ... this pseudo sage had taken things one step beyond when he interfered in my life.

I wont go into detail as to the near annihilation of my life due to the bile rot that spewed from his miserable mouth. He had taken bits and pieces of my life that he knew of, combined them with stereotypical nonsense and let it flow from his blithering mouth as FACT. These things may have been his opinion, which he's entitled to ... but the things he said were not TRUTH.
He'd succeeded in making someone important in my life believe his cretinous foul lies. Unfortunately this all coincided with a very sad time in my life -- the first holidays without my brother, who had just died. His death felt as if my right arm had been severed from me.
The pseudo sage thought nothing of this. Believe me though, I would never forget.

I learned his habits, routines -- all things required in preparation of casting my revenge. Eventually I knew exactly when, where and how to execute my vengeance.
I greeted him in the parking lot, not unusual for me to be there. We talked for a few minutes. I knew he kept half his life in the back-seat of his car, knew the position he assumed when retrieving things from the car; so I asked if I could borrow a graphic novel I knew was in the back-seat.
The tattooist/artist placed his drawing hand upon the roof of his car, bent down to get the book.

Down came the meat cleaver, sharp and shining in the sunlight, with passionate vengeance and hatred. An eye for an eye; or in this case - a hand for a right arm, his life for mine.

I knew he would be in too much shock to utter a sound. All he was able to do was look at me then down at his severed hand, fingers still twitching, quivering tendons and sinew in a growing pool of blood.
As I walked away I smiled and said, "Now, at least ONE of the things you said about me can be based on TRUTH - yeah, I have issues -- one of them was YOU; I AM sick."
I looked back once more as I got into my car to see him gawking at his severed hand.

"Hey D... let's hook up soon ... y'know, discuss life an shyt - things like ... FRIENDSHIP."

I regret only one thing: that I didn't take the time to stuff the bloody severed twitching hand into his putrid mouth.

and many people were happy everafter ...
they sang and danced to the beat of their feet on the street

DERELICTION: ( source: Mirriam-Webster)

1 a : an intentional abandonment (of thought)
b : the state of being abandoned (by someone i thought was a friend)
2 : a recession of water leaving permanently dry land ( as in sense leaving your barren brain)
3 a : intentional or conscious neglect : DELINQUENCY <~ of duty> (thinking without knowing all the facts - never bothering to find out)
b : FAULT, SHORTCOMING (of darryl's)

you form an impression, develop your opinion
from bits and pieces you know of my life
but who i REALLY am, you know nothing of
so keep your business in your pocket - stay outta mine

little things you know;from here, from there
combined with stereotypical themes
give you the right to think you KNOW who i am?
keep that nonsense in your pocket - or in your dreams

the short period of time you did associate with me
gave you pieces to a puzzle you cannot work
you know many things, but of ME you do not
keep the fictional change in your pocket - for what it's worth

**darryl-iction (of thought), too much fiction
you dont know it ALL
what gives you the right-
what gives you insight-
who are YOU to make a call?**

entitled to an opinion, but REALIZE that's ALL it is
the Judge or the Jury you are not
stay in Deep Thought ,you think you have the Answer
keep your business in your pocket - let it rot

i find it hard to believe you can be this way
quite surprised to realize your true thoughts
man, there's so much you dont know 'bout me
keep your head up your ass - MY battles are fought

and you don't even know the half, i can see
yet you concocted some phucked up story
when you don't know the Truth, is it right to lie?
keep your mouth in your pocket - or you could be sorry

**darryl-iction (of the brain), you caused friction
thinking you know it all
who gave you the right?
what gave you this insight?
that made you think you could make this call...**

what do you think you see?
what makes you better than me?
who are you supposed to be?

the world pulled over your eyes, blinding you from the Truth
born into a world of Bondage, a prison for your mind
you accept what you see - cuz you expect to wake up?!?
keep your postulations to yourself - stay in line
kb.© 02-00

................... - G.LR.

and here are some excerpts from Darryl's apology ...would YOU take this as sincere??:
"...I always thought you were an awesome artist and still do, no matter that I'm the recipient of so much bad karma.
Next time, do me a favor and if you're so damn wise to my "PSEUDO ETHICS and MORALS".....why don't you just call me and confront me?
I, the miserable puny excuse for a low down gutter crawling slime infested putrid minded wretch of a despicable human idiot, in my egomaniacal self-centered uncaring way, have deeply hurt yet another human heart in my sorry ass self inflicted pain sharing modus operandi through my cultist lying despicable falsehhods and twisted words, who, being worthy of nary a punitive glance because my amoebalike presence on the globe is unworthy of even recognition, do hereby crawl around in the muck beneath your feet drowning in the shit which I myself spewed forth from my ever misleading mouth, in deepest groveling, sincere APOLOGY!!!!!!!
(I know the thought that runs through your head right now.......SPLAT! With a big boot!)
Anyways, the art is fantastic, the page is amazing, and I hope you hate someone else's guts soon! Because that shit is gonna make me fucking bludgeon myself to death."

My apologies to SW for the butchering of "Dawn"
his angel his reluctant whore
met D and wanted G no more
so they fucked until they fell asleep
G was gone within the week

A funeral but nobody's dead
A wedding but no one's to wed
One morning she will just be gone
A stranger you'll have never known

Too hot now to fall asleep
you lie there and watch her breathe
But one morning she'll be gone
Like everything you ever loved
And no one kissed before they went.
Promises were never kept.

what was said at Snag's wedding should prove to you that I did not "make up" what I said ...

next: A Mellow Deep Black

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