Justified

it becomes increasingly difficult to find things positive to say about the opposite of sex regardless of whether or not I am of the same genetic make up or not. I am in admiration's grasp as to their visual draw to my kind, but beyond that and the less than stellar performances in adult activity, it leaves one a little metallic taste in their mouth for the blood drawn in anguish at what lengths they go to to undermine each other rather than to push their own species forward.

It behooves me to spend my days looking back on all the errors and deeds done and lost on this world and all the horror they themselves have brought unto. Every single myth in history stems from some need to cling to and seize a mate and taking them against their own will at that. But not one specimen has proven useful in being able to capture AND keep their prize. Not one. And I, well let's just say I may be perceived as a prize specimen of female but I resemble more a combative soldier of the male kind than the supposed weaker and gentler maiden in the mist. I am more than their equal and it scares the living shit out of most when they find this out...the hard way!

I have singularly watched a man tear down a relationship he has no idea I helped to create. I was pulling for him, really, but he dug himself in declaring himself above me and without a keeper and found himself capable of defecating and standing in his own filth while the smell of fear treacled from his reproductive organ and out to the sand beneath his feet. It's a beautiful sight and made more so when I nary have to draw sword or gun and aim. Sometimes it IS just the sound of my voice and the winds it is carried upon, though this time no words were actually spoken, by me that is. Only written, and aptly so and enough of that this person provoked an ire that he would never recover from. His superior view of himself proved false as he feared for his life all the while being too proud to admit it and screaming from a thousand miles away and loud enough for my capable ears to prick up on. I love coming out the victor without having to raise a banner. I love the war that was fought and the army that he drew to his noisy self and his declaration of "untouchable."

I, in all my most haughty of attitudes, know full well just how "touchable" each and every living organic thing is and he was a fool in his vanity, whereas I hold mine up in thanks to the gods whose images I am made from. He will burn by the very stakes he carries to drive into my vile, evil and dark form, and he will light that fire too with the smoke billowing from his announcements of a braggard's fashion! Life is beautiful when played out as it is. And I sit and I watch the flames of the "crash and burn" soon to come and am thankful and humble for the side that is at my back. I have every right to be so full of mirth and contempt for him right now and am trying very hard to not transfer it to others of his blood. It is a lifelong battle in me to not identify the misdeeds of one onto another, but I am persevering.

When the night comes to him so will the very foul and contemptible spirits of doom he so thought he had found in me. He called them and they will oblige if only to have something to do in their spare moments from their traditional obligations. As morally corrupt as my kind has been mistaken for, it is no wonder that women through ages receive the blame they do from their stronger mates. Maybe my kind should develop a method to genetically alter in such a manner as to beget more of their species in the "preferred" manner the media has portrayed. Maybe we should use that technology to right a few of the wrongs and empower all females everywhere to enslave their vain masters and tilt the world a little to disrupt the order of things. The new slaves would have it far better than we ourselves have had, those we chose to let live...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.