PASSION ALERT
Let me go to Horizon and say that Mrs. Puritan woman is actually castrating males with her morality, married eight moths before necessity, she has an ugly duckling complex hence her minimalist exorbitance.
Imagine with me that she is cornering male desires at their weakest point of attack. Men are lust creatures, to accuse us of lust is like accusing a black male of rape, so easy to do so difficult to disprove; we are guilty because the entire world perceives it as endemic to our nature. But imagine denying desire, dangerous to our inner being to want to disprove that! If we don’t lust after women what are we? Mrs. Puritan builds the immediate barricade to protect herself against the onslaught of sperm that is frantically trying to get to her egg basket. Barricades to protect that delicate aesthetic soul of hers that is fragile and precariously close to her eggs, giving her little option but to sink into a depression or to retaliate.
From men she feels assaults instead of desires, she feels that men will not love her soul, her aesthetic is an alien here, she erects walls to safe herself; but puritan expressions are too pure to construct formidable barriers against the world, finding herself defenseless she takes the offensive. I will castrate your desires at infancy; all alert bells go off rumbling war sounds within every tremor, paranoid but alerted by her frantic orthodoxy she orders all the boys to be morally slaughtered. Decrying, “You are a man, you want me, you better want me! Otherwise I am wrong and I am not wrong! I don’t want you to want me, stay away from me you creep! Whew, I am safe from you now, my morally devout husband is my only owner…”
Holding plenty of moral shackles and leg irons …searching to arrest flights of fancy… trapping lovers for her church of discipline… egg seekers exposed to the candor of her Roseless Bush …her sanguinary magical love disappearing, caught by her thorns hummingbird failing pinching her with his desire.
Frantic little girl running into the public square screaming: “Rape! Rape!” And this in days they did not posses medical expertise to prove her lily lies. Every male and every sentiment is suspect, every male is partially guilty; none of this would be imaginable if it wasn’t because men are men and they are attracted to beautiful women, they are even attracted to women at large, and despicably not just to her. Men can’t control themselves without her moral leash.
And there is the best of it, beautiful women, men are thoughtless in front of them, men don’t see the higher beauty, the essence, they fall for those superficial bitchess that so effortlessly lure them into passion traps and soulless desires. Now there is true power; Mrs. Puritan’s emasculated lily eyes darting as a gorgeous woman dances into the room; Mrs. Puritan grows uglier because she feels threaten! And uglier because she sees love with exclusivity! And uglier yet because we only observe her menacing guardian angel keeping her essence safe from our perversions. She is behind the lines of the masculine feminine line of fire, she has to use telescopes to see the battle of the sexes. Officers come to her tent but her directive poise is absolute, “Do not desire me!”
Desire! There is the power surge that mandates all that protection, if you destroy desire from both ends of the burning candle, then you get to keep the wax body, and that is solid and true, as long as you don’t let it heat and burst into sapphire flames; you got a work to keep it away from blazing, and our world is combustible, there are a thousand million sparkling nitroglycerin attractions.
Desire, the magic of playing with that, it is not a sandpit, it is a furnace of tingling sensations sprouting everywhere, flesh on fire, attention! Flesh on fire, to us it smells sweet to others it is a stench; corpses burning is carnal, flesh burning is passion; all those open doors, all those bellybutton ladders unfolding alluring heights.
The apocryphal eleventh commandment: “Never shall you love someone that can not deceive you!” Dare immerse your flesh within the tensions of glory amplifying desires; bodies ecstasy lollipops everywhere, and only one tongue and only so much saliva and only….. ahhahahhaahhha…. Where is my master alienator blisteerrrrriiiing biblical extinguisher of all desire!!!
Passion Alert!
Repeat
Passion Alert!
This is not a drill.
I repeat…
This is not a drill.
Judgmental, how is it that you reproduce without inspiring desire?
Asexually.
Judgmental, how do you pass judgment when no one tells you the truth?
Squalid valor.
Imagine with me that she is cornering male desires at their weakest point of attack. Men are lust creatures, to accuse us of lust is like accusing a black male of rape, so easy to do so difficult to disprove; we are guilty because the entire world perceives it as endemic to our nature. But imagine denying desire, dangerous to our inner being to want to disprove that! If we don’t lust after women what are we? Mrs. Puritan builds the immediate barricade to protect herself against the onslaught of sperm that is frantically trying to get to her egg basket. Barricades to protect that delicate aesthetic soul of hers that is fragile and precariously close to her eggs, giving her little option but to sink into a depression or to retaliate.
From men she feels assaults instead of desires, she feels that men will not love her soul, her aesthetic is an alien here, she erects walls to safe herself; but puritan expressions are too pure to construct formidable barriers against the world, finding herself defenseless she takes the offensive. I will castrate your desires at infancy; all alert bells go off rumbling war sounds within every tremor, paranoid but alerted by her frantic orthodoxy she orders all the boys to be morally slaughtered. Decrying, “You are a man, you want me, you better want me! Otherwise I am wrong and I am not wrong! I don’t want you to want me, stay away from me you creep! Whew, I am safe from you now, my morally devout husband is my only owner…”
Holding plenty of moral shackles and leg irons …searching to arrest flights of fancy… trapping lovers for her church of discipline… egg seekers exposed to the candor of her Roseless Bush …her sanguinary magical love disappearing, caught by her thorns hummingbird failing pinching her with his desire.
Frantic little girl running into the public square screaming: “Rape! Rape!” And this in days they did not posses medical expertise to prove her lily lies. Every male and every sentiment is suspect, every male is partially guilty; none of this would be imaginable if it wasn’t because men are men and they are attracted to beautiful women, they are even attracted to women at large, and despicably not just to her. Men can’t control themselves without her moral leash.
And there is the best of it, beautiful women, men are thoughtless in front of them, men don’t see the higher beauty, the essence, they fall for those superficial bitchess that so effortlessly lure them into passion traps and soulless desires. Now there is true power; Mrs. Puritan’s emasculated lily eyes darting as a gorgeous woman dances into the room; Mrs. Puritan grows uglier because she feels threaten! And uglier because she sees love with exclusivity! And uglier yet because we only observe her menacing guardian angel keeping her essence safe from our perversions. She is behind the lines of the masculine feminine line of fire, she has to use telescopes to see the battle of the sexes. Officers come to her tent but her directive poise is absolute, “Do not desire me!”
Desire! There is the power surge that mandates all that protection, if you destroy desire from both ends of the burning candle, then you get to keep the wax body, and that is solid and true, as long as you don’t let it heat and burst into sapphire flames; you got a work to keep it away from blazing, and our world is combustible, there are a thousand million sparkling nitroglycerin attractions.
Desire, the magic of playing with that, it is not a sandpit, it is a furnace of tingling sensations sprouting everywhere, flesh on fire, attention! Flesh on fire, to us it smells sweet to others it is a stench; corpses burning is carnal, flesh burning is passion; all those open doors, all those bellybutton ladders unfolding alluring heights.
The apocryphal eleventh commandment: “Never shall you love someone that can not deceive you!” Dare immerse your flesh within the tensions of glory amplifying desires; bodies ecstasy lollipops everywhere, and only one tongue and only so much saliva and only….. ahhahahhaahhha…. Where is my master alienator blisteerrrrriiiing biblical extinguisher of all desire!!!
Passion Alert!
Repeat
Passion Alert!
This is not a drill.
I repeat…
This is not a drill.
Judgmental, how is it that you reproduce without inspiring desire?
Asexually.
Judgmental, how do you pass judgment when no one tells you the truth?
Squalid valor.
posted by Ricardo Correa at 8/31/2006 10:30:00 AM
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