Prosthetic Phallus

You know what scares me?

-- Realisation, wisdom, knowledge and philosophy.

This I quote from Palahniuk: The future we have tomorrow is different from the future we had yesterday.

I was at the library, as usual, with a pile of books on the table; revision notes(which I try not to pretend to touch), books from the psychology section, philosophy section, literature, arachnids, blah blah and more blah.

I read a lot, but as you know, it's not much you really absorb. I like real things, logical things, things that make me think, things that have nothing to do with idle thoughts.

Which comes to another depressing quote from Palahniuk: The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because it's only intangibles, ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die.

You see what I mean? It's all too demoralising(figuratively);ignominious.

But he's right. Everything real is truly inferior to fantasy, imagination and religion; all these are truly indestructible.

You see how scary all these are? - You can never have too much of a good thing, I'm afraid.

You see, I'm obsessed because, and I again quote from Palahniuk,"Here in your mind you have complete privacy. Here there's no difference between what is and what could be."

And another: It's pathetic how we can't live with the things we can't understand. How we need everything labeled and explained and deconstructed.

And another:We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are...Or we can decide for ourselves.

You see, words are an addiction, just as drugs are an addiction, just as sex is an addiction; anything that can help us evade the idea of post-misery, unhappiness, sadness, anger, fear, worry, despair, and depression; well, let's just say addiction is medicine to any mental suffering.

I'm addicted to smoking, but hey, a psychologist once said that a cigarette is just a cigarette.

Wanna know what he means?

-- A cigarette can unconsciously evoke the requiem of the happiest moments of babyhood: breastfeeding. This is what I would call oral fixation. Just the action of the cigarette bud touching your lips creates a nostalgia within the system that can bring happiness to one. All others are, well, may just be an illusion.

I may be too young to smoke, but hey, you know, I don't think we're too young for anything but 3 things: knowledge, wisdom and philosophy.

-- Only few people in the world are ready for it; Nietzsche, the Greeks, the fundamentalists of beliefs such as Nihilism, Existentialism and Atheism.

So you see what I mean? we're too young, too foolish for all of that, people say we learn from our mistakes; so you know what I say?

--The greater the mistake, the greater the lesson; we have to make the biggest mistake ever to make the most of our life.

With that being said, I'll leave you with one last quote from Palahniuk: We live and die and anything else is just delusion.

Kvnt.

Planet Kvnt

It had been months since I was watching them. Behind my jealous eyes leered a mind waiting to explode in all of fantasy and sexual reality.

Their bodies converged in a seizure-like intensity; passion with demise; sexual abomination.

I watched as they frolicked and twirled around like drunk ice-skaters; assuming position to position in a memorized sequence.

He hacked himself onto her like a machete onto branches, she moaned, heaved and sighed in every way possible. With every breath she took, a flame within me lick temptingly, waiting to devour my person.

For months i had snuck here by this window just to watch them, and each time, I grow exhausted from the masturbation and my orgasm.

Live porn forever.

Each time when he was done with her, his lean figure slouched in a tired manner, almost as though a Spartan fatigued from battle.

He panted heavily with sweat trickling down his muscular body, his shadow casted on the wall; disgraced and wanting to disintegrate into the nightly winds; frost bitten into disgust.

This was the way with sex, one moment lovers, when that moment's gone, you hate them, but you hate yourself even more.

This had been going on a few months, love then hate. The cycle continues; lust then digust.

Friday night was role-play night, they would pretend to be something they're not for that one night, just to savour the sex, just to savour the moment; just trying not to hate each other.

"Pretend you are a 15-man bukkake mob," she tells him, "cum all over me all night long."

He attempts to go in piece by piece the first 'guy' came in at a little over 2 minutes, then as he grew tired, he grew slower, grew weaker, becoming in all doubt a 9 man bukkake mob instead.

She was dressed in both thick and watery grey, cloudy, sticky fluid, licking and tasting her dressing. Just like mayonase and thousand island sauce on a salad altogether.

This was more intense than I would have ever imagined, I was already ejeculating and i haven't even reached for my member.

I wanted to be mob members 11-15 or maybe more now. My fluid was running down my boxers, swiftly down my leg, the warm sensation glued my pants and boxers to my skin.

This is uncomfortable.

I stuff my left arm down my pants, caressing and comforting and drying my excited member.

The fatigued Spartan sunk into his seat, penis red, and most probably in an intense, acute pain from all that dry masturbation, he seemed pleased with his art.

It is time for me again to take my leave, come back another friday, or perhaps another day. Live porn forever.

Kvnt.
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I went out yesterday again with Joy, maybe for once I realised that I need her more than anything. We went to watch the National Day Parade as with almost a thousand tonnes of human waste, fanatics just there for the show; all with the same purpose: to get the best view of the fire works.

We went back to my place, she really needed to go back home, so we gathered her stuff and went to MaccyD's.

Bumped into Michelle and Eric there, waited for Khallis, whom I got along pretty well with.

Dropped by Michelle's place and had a beer and some ciggies then sent Joy home. Almost 3 years and she still kisses me the same, still holds me the same, still says things the same. She's so beautiful wherever I see her.

She does to me what colours do to the eyes, everytime I think of her, it's like playing the same old Air Supply song, it's like writing without words. Sometimes I do wonder if i just say things, make shit up just to feel romantic.

She bites me even more passionate now, actually more roughly, but i enjoy it. my lips are still bleeding, it's swollen, sore and has a larger laceration. I love her too much.
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