The mimicked reflection of the chameleon

Many men socially succumb to such succubi: the social chameleon, which is the larval stage of a dependapotamus, and whose only future-plan is to cling to his.

And all her power is gifted,
by the man whom she targets,
who will warp her visage
into a reflection of himself—
at least emotionally
if not also mentally,
yet often also physically
as much as is possible
—by training her to mimic his habits.

Thence the reflection gratifies his self-worship while, he vainly hopes, amplifying and even justifying it; even as the throes of such a status quo renders her—first in flashes, then for all time—as all that can go wrong with a woman.

Moreover, he thereafter addicts himself to “sharing” (i.e. sublimating) all of his most cherished endeavors, into the virtuous vapors of that mediocre, melancholic mimic—that chameleon, who leverages his desire to find a female “equal,” as a consolation and a compensation for the man-mandated monogamy which dooms his desire for variety, and thus tempts him to cut-and-paste her into a rancidly arrhythmic, unbalanced social-ornament—onto whom he grafts all his passive-aggression towards men, and into whom he vents all his manic depression towards the compromising brevity of life: a pitiful plight, wherein he hopes stiffly to hide from strife, by descending into a deluge of dull indulgence, as much as possible, as frequently as possible, for as long as possible—with her as his pitiful, strained, stained, and miserable, sad and surly one-woman-harem.

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