The Irrevocable Rapture of a Pious, Yet Curious Virginess

Unabashedly, over the spell of a gaping week, her initial fascination had transmuted into chronic and ineradicable obsession.

Ensconced with a feigned innocence, and in hostile opposition to her moral upbringing, she digitally revealed herself to Me, exposing abounding carnal pleasures that I looked to ravage and defile with predatory intent. It was only a matter of time now before I would be navigating her smooth, caramel fleshscape with My wanderlust tongue.

The destination? A pink oasis that promised to satisfy, almost as much as the satiating flavor of virginal conquest–a sweet and selfish aftertaste that indwells the palate of My carnivorous raptures.

East of No Ideologies

My words ride strapped on the bare backs of galloping Mongol warhorses ready to find their mark–projected by the bows of cold-blooded and benumbed barbarians.

From across the East Cerebral Valley the revelation whizzes through the air,
marauding the village people in your unconscious where your beliefs about the unknown are conceived under the dubious glow of comprehension.

Having been impaled by the message, the only thing about you that will slowly die is your ignorance and malnourished perception, for you will begin to drowsily awaken to an alternative set of eyes, and seeing will become anew.

I come to awaken the snoring swine within your boudoir, and I will boot it out and lead it to its deserving slop pen so that it may roll around in its filth!

I will rid you of your vile and foul doctrines–impotent ideologies that offend the hairs in the nostril and inhibit the mind.

Thus spoke, The DragnMastr.

A Pleasant Afternoon

All she wanted was a quiet little spot to sit down so that she could concentrate on survival.

The warm sunshine embracing her was pleasant, the gentle breeze caressing her beautiful face was pleasant, the excitement of being in a new town was pleasant.

Everything was pleasant. Apart from Beelzebub strangulating her possessed lungs and pissing occasionally on her tired feet, everything was, in fact, pleasant.

Some golden showers are of an internal nature.