The weight of the Sins of Men

... I ... couldn't have put it better than that.
As I was writing about that triggering scene in the Barbie movie.
It's a weird feeling.

The neat thing about art is, that it doesn't have to be precise. Well - depending on what it is that one wants out of it - sure - but generally speaking is its true value often covered behind layers of abstraction. A statue, or say: image of Jesus, might depict in about anyone - unless it is to resemble someone specific; But then again ... accuracy isn't necessarily required.

Now - I myself know that I crave a world that easily translates into things I find uncomfortable, concerning, troubling ... - where with/in the real world we don't have a lot of the luxuries of artistic freedom.
But truth be told ... I'm in one of those ... moods again. The kind where I have like a dripping pillar of cum going straight through my brain. And it is ... quite in the sense ... a literal thing. Although ... hmm ... "Sprichwörtlich" - I suppose means as much as 'in-deed' as 'figuratively'. It is a reality however - except it isn't physical. What it does, where it comes from, why it's there ... those are questions following the plain observation.

But alas - I cannot wish for it. I can only let it happen - and resistance is futile. At best, maybe, I might get distracted by something. And yet like so, ever so often I just dip into an ocean of sensual impressions - figments reaching out from the dark, dragging me into a state blissful resignation and resolute submission.

The stuff of fantasies - really. I mean ... literally even - I suppose. And optimistically ... when one wants it and another wants it too - two sides to the same coin - it should be regarded a coin, so-to-speak. Not just two abstracts floating in the void as though they couldn't be a thing. But alas ... that optimism ought to fade with any remote consideration of "the real".

And here - on and off - I feel something ... as surrounded by tissue - a bag of flesh perhaps - impressing upon me ... desires for my sexual availability while faintly leaving the sensation of fleshy bulges rubbing against me and between my legs. I can take it as flattery - from the Universe perhaps; Yet in as far as I'm neither willing nor ready to indulge in it - while the matters, priorities and concerns of my life lie elsewhere - it only comes across as weird. Even weirder when there are real faces attached to it. Sure, as an impression - part of the figment, but an impression nonetheless. And maybe so I can consider myself lucky - that ... me being as ugly as I am beautiful can get people easily on another page of things. Which then, yet again, I happen to lament - so yea, again, it's weird.


But that, of course, is also only half the story. Give or take. In as far as there's an angle to these things that allow me to enjoy such circumstance - an angle not restricted by size/magnitude per se, but by perspective (like by a gate) - it is scary to see versions of it that are being adhered to far outside of that. I suppose the simplest comparison as to how that is, is to that of Light that shines through the crack of a door. For Light is it that we speak of, or should. Righteousness being one of the simpler properties thereof. I mean, some might wonder why I - or anyone - should care. Or how come I should find myself concerned in behalf of others - given that I might not even know whether or not that concern is justified. But no - I'm not concerned for others. I am concerned for myself - and, sure, assume as much for others. And whether I should care or not - is described in that metaphor. There is Light - and it knows me and respects me in ways that might be difficult to fathom. That respect entails far more than merely the appearances of what I want - as I find myself longing for it in all aspects of my life. Real or not.

And yea, given my condition we might also call it a gift. The devil's in the details they say; And more can yet be said - and staying in the Light is as simple of a way to put it as it gets.
As - it's ... weird that I'm getting hung up on this. I do understand it though. Call it an absolute and relentless truth that radiates through my being - pure to the point that all resistance is futile. It doesn't take hold. It cannot even be properly fathomed. But so I also do know it - and as it gives me what I want ... that is ultimately all I need to care about. Well - deeper inside there are also attachments and loyalty and a lot of mind-stuff that just ... integrates or vibes or whatever. Point being - at the end of the day it is a rather simple equation. And that's why, that's how and so on. And I suppose, on either side of the issue, you'd rightfully call me a bitch. For better or worse.


And that's that