the power of the haunches
(this is fiction. nobody get offended ... uh, please ?)
http://www.loserturdmafia.com/
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
you’re never prepared for the first time a dark little cavern yawns open inside you and births a tiny beast of lust. you can try your damndest to abort your vile new self with reality-kicks in the guts. no use. you’re pregnant with what you want. kick at the thing all you like. but it is going to come out now that it knows where to go
dancing in your guts like that
no vomiting your way back to the righteous realm with fake fresh puritanical intentions of vanilla-flavoured love is going to fix it. and anyway, too much sweetness makes you sick now. makes you gag. or maybe that's just another tentacle you’re choking on
damn thing is everywhere now
and roses. oh, fuck. there were roses once, there really were. as many as i wanted. more than i wanted. can a woman have too many roses ?. the fucking dead reproductive organs of plants. and all of them handed me blood red dead dying things and not one of them thought to scrape at my flesh with the thorns
so do you do something only part of you wants
guess it depends on which part. my beast started to breathe for me for the first time in the darkness. a second thing, other than me, raises it’s face to fire now. offers it’s cheek to be slapped. tears its’ pale flesh on thorns. stopped running at last and was soon able to see in the dark
romance novels. they make me laugh ‘til i’m sick now
all that healthy desire
it’s so sinister. it is well choreographed though. it’s very tidy. ideal, really, for fodder to re-train with, if you think about it. which i don’t. it’s like riding a bike. it gets welded to your brain. insert. repeat. you almost can’t get it wrong although everybody still does
the holy grail of fucking is full of dirt, you know
they all think it’s shiny but you can’t blame them cause they’ve never seen it. but they’re hoping to ... by keeping it clean, of course. so that they can see their faces in it and make sure no filth obscures their mirror vision of purity. (i think you can only see it in the dark. or else lying to yourself enough eventually makes the impossible invisible to you. i could laugh ‘til i puke again about what’s really in it)
dirt. it’s full of dirt. black, thick, slimy dirt. if it touches you, you can never get it off. and if you taste it, you will forever be left empty for more
i’m dirty now. ruined. don’t even offer your throat to me for the fear that i may rip it clean open. and you’re right. i’ll do it, too, if you ever again aim perfumed, perfect arrows of love my way in the vain hope that they can ever fell me the way his hands can
oh, i’m so dirty now
