Empathizing with Evil... I Just... A Confessional Deluge of Post Sexual War

I just,

    Had to... Do it, you know... Don't you? Please, you can't hold me libel, not in the cobwebs of evidence found the occurrence was a rare form yearning that comes less than a requiem once in a life deficit of conscience time! It's not like I grievously wounded another inhuman being... At least not as yet untitled whole career of my heart was intoxicated with her purpose after all the intertwining sexual curse is wrapped up in nature's double lust sensitive under husk ground touch, it's in our D.N.A...!

     Across the room she was enflamed by the playing it masculinely cool glance, shy to the covert sexual tones of my inner hideous eye's grotesque attempt at undressing her, rape with my mind. Her insecurities were my aspirations, issuing strange gestures into her ears, malicious scythe forked lying tongue compliments, Falsified adages I'd climax unprotected inside if she believed, yet never guessed the raging artificial fires of my truthfully benign purpose.

     But you believe me, don't you...? Even as she sits across the board of this chess court match stick to your guns room, her eyes maintain the constant suicide wish ebb and oblivion hope flow, a tide of life malignantly streaming down her gaunt cheeks, No one needs to know rape culture's greatest dismay, that she is white jacket lead straight swayed cell away, a prison of sheep opaque pillow walls stained only with memory ache tears. Unallowed to commit her life to a budding new f(r)iendship, that of the knife to flesh, her wrists will be kept in debt to the pariah growing inside her, attached to the living realm yet again her consent and purpose, however deviant, have been stolen away.

     Not even the witnesses blamed me! It was beautiful, the helix communion of my ever exposed disarmed unguarded thrust, The reality is... I could never admit this allowed, I tore open her epidermis cocoon, penetrated the holy nest, made bloody a youth's heart of emotion terror gold, yet I am not stained at all... Because I'm detached, I don't feel remorse at all for the illicit seething lust touch I enforced upon her butterfly turned moth of a marionette to nightmares being.

     Tomorrow the jury will convict me vindicated and find her responsible for giving off the scent of a minx, any man's tangible memory desire to bank another savoury kiss lips would after her burial stain her coffin with a second cumming, a poisonous dare of immoral trench sexual holocaust nazi troops, looking down upon moths as less than rodents or a masculine contest of the last murder, committed by the perpetual black hearted crow. 

     The son of every mother is endangered to arise and become karma's divergent saint knighted by God is the predatory death of virginity figurine, persona non grata existing without the atonementless regret of angels, fallen in genocide league with grace to over hatred throw the seemingly immortal powers of pent sensual up rage, caged in the children formulating the future of this new rape intimately accepted culture man!

     For I am no man at all... Whether by nature's imbued poweress or nurtured by culture's heirloom traits into this misogynistic husk, my ghost will reincarnate to sexually hate seep my defilement upon the fuselage vessel of my imparted seed, for the trophies of sandcastle earth's history are rife with the memory ache shrapnel embed tears of my crimes.

In earnest anticipation of,