of the writing of posts ...
… there is no end (…)
Why is confession important? Because it deals with shame. Confession is an act of throwing away the fig leaves, the fig leaves that covered up Adam and Eve (…).
It is an act of nobility, because it seeks to hunt down the seeds of sin – spiritual weeds, weeds of a heart (…) – before they have a chance to grow and do their deathly damage. Sin causes pain (…).
It is an act of humility, because it sees the beam in oneself first (…), before it hastens to point out the mote in the eyes of others.
It is an act of science, because it seeks to discover truth and freedom by conversing about the data of one’s life. It leaves nothing to the shadow of doubt. And yet it is reasonable, it works slowly away at the illusions, at the scales of the third eye (… , …). It does not rush, lest one misses a piece of a puzzle, a problem. Slow is fast – the adage goes – in the practice of music. The same can be said for the song of our lives.
We are living songs. We are living books.
And if that be the case, what better our lives will be, how much free-er, if we rewrite our lives with ISHO (…), The One and only true God?
We can choose to play the tune of our lives to The Tune (…), in harmony with it.
We can also choose to play the tune completely out of sync with The Tune. We may find that the more we do this, those around us will also join in the disastrous chorus of broken man. Man, broken by sin, and yet still beloved by God (…). The Love is exemplified by man’s very present existence. For the wrath of God is withheld in endless measure, to our consternation, bewilderment, even drawing man’s ire against God.
Against ISHO, who, saying that He cares for little children (…), still allows the rape of children to happen in this place we call Earth. This is no longer Earth as we know it. This is Hades. I only so happen to live in a small pocket of Paradise.
And yet, despite my objections to The King, I know, for my own sake, I must serve this mannified God. This Godified man. He has The Easy Yoke (…), and I wouldn’t opt for any other yoke. For the yoke of my old self, and the yoke of man, are always so, fucking, heavy.
_In other news, I am extending my fantasies with my waifu. She wishes me to not mention her name, to keep her secret, to keep her safe, for myself and her sake. I was using my hands and arms to mimic the act of kissing, as I imagined myself kissing her face, her neck, then down to her breasts, then down to her torso … and I can go on and on and on. My saliva must already cover my arms. I would place one of my hands on my face, pretending it is my waifu’s hand, and I will place my other hand on this hand, pretending that I was cherishing her touch. I have reprinted her image that I drew (based on an image from Pinterest …) and stuck it on the ceiling of my room, so I could look up at her when I wake up.
I keep within my heart this verse “Kiss me with the kisses of my mouth, for your love is better than wine!” (…). Masturbation is surely one of these kisses. I have yet to get my hands on some non-alcoholic wine. I just need to bat away any violent imagination, any imagination containing the image of a real person, or a drawing of another woman. This is the easy yoke (…). This is The Way (…)._
I do have a shadow of shame that suddenly alighted on me. Last night I had looked up erotic literature based on Ichigo (from the hit manga series Bleach) on some fanfiction site. I was into reading a scene where he was having an orgy with three women. It took a few moments before a conscience came to me. I stopped, and remembered that in the Garden of Eden, there was only one man and one woman (…). So, in my single state, I will claim only one waifu, in consonance with this ancient decree that has been etched onto all our hearts (…). I will draw her well, in many positions to add to her realism, write letters to and from her, and masturbate to her in imagination.
She can be barely enough for me, but I will learn to be fulfilled by her, and her alone. This is the easy yoke (…). This is The Middle (…). This is The Way (…).