Woman was God’s second mistake.

—Friedrich Nietzsche

Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior.

—Socrates

A man does what he can; a woman does what a man cannot. —Isabel Allende

Men have grown embarrassingly weak, but only through observation. Their resolve can easily be broken by a woman. Their emotions can be easily manipulated by a woman. Their power can be easily taken by a woman. Their pride can be easily stripped by a woman. Their entire life can easily be ruined by a woman. While physically st...

Woman was God’s second mistake.

—Friedrich Nietzsche

Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior.

—Socrates

A man does what he can; a woman does what a man cannot. —Isabel Allende

Men have grown embarrassingly weak, but only through observation. Their resolve can easily be broken by a woman. Their emotions can be easily manipulated by a woman. Their power can be easily taken by a woman. Their pride can be easily stripped by a woman. Their entire life can easily be ruined by a woman. While physically stronger, their manipulative prowess can be wittingly outclassed by a woman. And while their dreams are stronger, the realities of women are stronger.

—Lionel Suggs

At the tip of,my little finger, he waits. Simply a glance, a sigh, I make him feel like a man... a real man. The way I walk one foot in front of the other, placing down toes then heel like a cat, without a noise. A coy glance, a bat of my eyes as grey as the ocean.

He tingles from the core of his being. Like the first crush. The first obsession.... the teacher, the neighbor, the thought that consumed him.

Effortlessly.

I can tear him apart by simply disregarding him as an important part of my life, my day, my moment. I can make his existence relevant by twirling my hair and giving a crooked smile.

My body, more majestic than any river, any sunset, any ocean.

I am his God.

I am his heaven and I am his turmoil.

Every callous, every backache, every worry.

All for my pleasure.

I disregard him.

It is in disregarding him that each touch of my hand feels like the greatest reward.

I am God, I am magic.

His feeble deposit rots on my floor, or I take it within me and I make him a step-son.

Every part of him that I cherish, I pick apart and collect. I create a being.

Like the earth, air, sun and water, I make a perfect creation. A creation like him but better, because it is also me.

I make life, I am the giver of the gift he can buy at no store. I give him his only step-son.

I am his air, I am his heartbeat, I am his life. Without me he is nothing.

I choose you. God chooses you.

He falls to his knees and gives me praise. I touch his cheek, stare into his eyes and he... is... loved.