Personal Ad

My love was a lie and came to an end
I have been dumped and it hurt me so bad
I am taking out this personal ad
Would anyone like to be my girlfriend?
I would love to be the one and only
Of some kind lady for I am lonely

I got the tattoo fixed without her name
It was unbearable to have it there
Now it is a dark star falling in flame
The memory haunted me everywhere
Even on my arm but is gone there now
I have to get through this and live somehow

Is it too late to get back in the game?
It was all a big lie nor did she die
It was not give and take it was all fake
She sucked the marrow out of my bones my blood is sucked dry
I want to live but feel it so much easier to die
She rejected me and she is gone: I have to move on

Tonight I throw it all away
Tomorrow in the light of day
I will see and I will be free
Would anybody like to be with me?

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMV

People lie themselves out of situations in order to avoid responsibility for their actions. Silke was a selfish and disturbed tease, and created a cruel lie to avoid the consequences of her creation. You should count yourself lucky for figuring out the truth, and feel free to exorcise the demons at your leisure.

Thanks, Dan.

I certainly got hosed!

But, there are some really nice ladies in the world, who are not even crazy; I am beginning to discover how lovely it is to be out of that web of madness. It is a revelation just to chat with someone who is not the center of their own perverted little universe, their own tiny hell which they force us to share with them with no hope of escape.

I think all the problems we had here on the website had something to do with her as well.

God, I just want to take a lot of really long showers and walk in the sunshine as much as possible. I am just this moment writing a very sunny poem for a very sunny woman who does not appear to be twisted at all; I had no idea such creatures existed!

I got the tattoo fixed, and I suppose I will recover. But, damn! Why did it take a thousand days of this for me to see the light? Oh, that's right... I didn't even actually see the light; I got dumped for a married and faithless satyr of a German paralegal.

Memory is reconstructive...

Only demonstrably SANE ladies from now on for me. It is hardly necessary to fake death to get rid of me; a simple dumping would do, but this one dumped me, died, rose again, then dumped again.

As I said, I certainly got hosed. But my friend the fraud attorney, one of the investigators of this fiasco, tells me that all fraud victims feel stupid and blame themselves; it's just a natural response.

I really appreciate your words of solidarity, Dan. Now, at last, I am free to be the actually quite reasonable person I really am, having somehow escaped from the tiny hell which we had known as "Silke."

I just wish that name weren't all over my books. I guess she was my muse... other poets have had muses no more real than mine; my doctor tells me that the unreality of "Silke" doesn't diminish the reality of my work. I have four books, and I really did write them from an open and an honest heart; I thought I was in love, that I was loved. My poetry and the books of it are real.

I think I will be much more effective around here now, freed from that sick sac, that cultus of calamity; I felt like Frodo bound up by that enormous spider...

As I recover from this, I will remember who I was, and become who I will be, "Silke"-free.

I guess everybody saw this but me. I guess I was the last to know, blinded and bound as she had me.

I am embarrassed.

Oh, and remember "Jasper"? He's all over the Internet now blaming ME for her "death." He also, inexplicably, is really pissed off at Johns Hopkins. He believes that my writing "three poems a day" is the cause of her "death."

Gee, I didn't think the poems were quite THAT bad!

I'll survive, and thrive. It'll be fun; it's a big, beautiful world outside the spider's lair.

If you ever hear from Franziska, please, tell her to come back.