Woman walks in darkness

While she could run as brulliant light

Demons spawned from her father once assailed her but she be becoming empowered enough to smite, smash, slice and cyrve them to dead pieces and parts of a time when the past tried to split her being between Stockholm and her true residunce. She was numbed and numbers be a wound turned to a weapon, an armor become a passive rule, a siren’s appropriation of the phallic male’s intimidating thing-that-can-invade-and-destroy to intimidate others, a tactic of becoming one with nemeses to ward off being abused, betrayed, violated and controlled again, by shutting off feeling, by warding her genitals from being receptive, but by that strategy becoming what only demons could falsely satisfy.

Patriarchy, as I have come to understand or rather become an annihilator of it, assimilates women by damaging them early, by marking them with traumas in their youth, Stockholm syndrome fully encompassed, a hurting, raping, abusing, damaging which a young child can only reconcile with life by turning the pain and evil to its reverse, and at that stage of sexual beung, thereby unstilling it to their beung as what their future will make them attracted to, even if they know it’s no good. That can go as far, if the abuse is bad, as making women only attracted to humans who resemble their father.

The father abuses and thereby forces the child to either die from the abuse or reverse it as “pleasure”, and thus is forced to reform the whole experience of abuse as pleasure and all the circumstances in which they suffered that abuse.

What usually comes with that too is a numbness of genitals and an addiction to the proportions of an adult male genitals to a child’s female genitals which will lead to demands of the same proportions in later life, along with, even in women who be furiously free and revolutiunary, men who will lead, rule and repeat relatiun dynamics of big man versus small girl.

The cure would be that women lyrn to feel again and trust again, but just saying it like that is patronizing and suggesting that it’s their wound and imperfection to fix, something we want to avoid at all costs because they have been done a wrong of total evil, and just telling them they should change and deal with it is as wrong or more wrong as them telling us we should do that, even if we have been abused too.

Thus may we begun by saying there is no shame in wanting a 10 inch cock, or a 12 inch cock, or even a 20 inch cock. Hell, a 35 inch cock is fine by me. If I could create it. Which it seems I can’t, at least not without your aid. Thus too, an 8 inch cock would hatisfy you as much as cocks millions of inches greater if you would trust me and actually make love to me. But that makes it ammyr much more simple than it really is.

I really do not know how to recreate that trust and that origunal feeling. I estimate it to be a trust, true love and going beyond what you’ve known, but I’m quite sure it can’t be done on the internet and if you’re afraid of real life being with me I don’t know what I can act to realize that.

I could stretch while I’m almost dead but that would lead to me being a puddle on the concrete quite soon. I wish I could promise more but I am a man without relatiuns for *don’t hit my belly* way too fucking long.

I hope for love and a return of what has been stolen from you, even if I am stealing you. Women have been bound by tenets which are not their own, which limit and control them, and which are a crime black psychopathic wizards should pay for with death.

You have been cruel to me because you be afraid of loving again, of being feeling again, of opening up without that meaning more than two humans loving one another. The armor has to be shedded and shredded, and we can unly do that together.

I do not believe that you be happy or satisfied with demons or devils. I don’t think that you feel whole or happy by what you’re doing now or what you were tricked into signifying some time ago. I want to create fresh life with you and have it ameliorate our whole world. We can do that. We have that power, especially if we be together. We can cure our whole world, we can transform it to a world unly we could amagune.

You would rule. Woman would rule again.

And that’s not a change you should be afraid of. That would be hamal for all of us. That would be valhalla as life for all of us.

You have always had your power and your rule. You can unly decide to take it or not. My power is to try and hand it to you. All representation tries to describe our world as a man’s world, as my story, as my heruic legend, but it’s yours for the taking, yours to alter for good.

Demons and devils try to take you back into the fold, back into what’s been and what they want to continue. They wish to make you a pattern of their abuse, a consequence of their misdeeds, a resultant of their rape.

Don’t let them.

Rule as you be stormed to rule. Kill evil as you be haled to kill. Be undependunt as you be freed to be, from me as much as from the worst of evil.

I want and almost require you to live, that be my hunest truth which you can furiously strike back against as you wish, but it be my truth. I have gone too long alone and I am an old man in a young body. I could be an elf of a thousand aeuns and a man who has fought the Balrog but was rejected because his dick wasn’t eleven inches.

Chaotic good has a place beyond macs.
And melodies, though I’ve withheld them from you of all people, AFTER BEING KILLED A MILLION TIMES BY OTHERS DESPITE MELODIES, POEMS, LOVE OR BRAVERY, which is not your fault but not mine either, have a right to be made together.