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the places truly bereft of humanity tend to make you uncomfortable even walking through. you know, auschwitz, dark rooms in london with iron-maidens and floors you can't wash the blood out of, shit where it'd be disquieting to live in alone for a few years. maybe a morgue at a leper-colony, maybe new jersey.

knowing the crimes of humanity that have happened inside of her womb, you just can't escape history. it's accepted scott fayner in the stage before the three letters of his disease changed around and he became bedridden and a defiance employee. steve holmes and the men at red light who are 50% ex-convicts and bad people have been there. it's like staying at a hotel room the day after someone died in it. when you look at her asshole gape, you're looking at a room of gassed-jews.
when macbeth kills duncan and can't wash the taint off his hands while the blood was long gone, it's the same deal as steve holmes, except his blood has insects in it.




I actually think a lot about stuff like this, so much so im almost certain i was a tribal leader in a previous life of one of those tribes who kill unmarried women who aren't virgins. I just don't want to know the person im fucking has either fucked a) someone i don't like or b) someone i think has stuck his dick into a pussy total that equals the population of alaska, or colin farrell who fits into both a and b. Even if it was 3 years ago theres always that voice in the back of your mind telling you "hey monkey, theres a chance that guys dna is still stuck to her vaginal walls, enjoy"
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“Jesus said, hey baby, its all good" Wayne Lewis