How bad can the mind be?  How bad is too bad?  How far do you let it go? Do you feel clean when you’re dirty or do you feel the need to be cleansed by the dirt?  No matter how twisted it gets or how real it feels it’s all in your head.

The corrupted conscience isn’t a bad place to dwell as long as you can handle the crimes committed there.  Whether you’re the pawn or the king or the master or the servant, if you let the Joker play his crazy card, you may actually enjoy the game.  You certainly won’t know until you put some skin in it, so why not expose the plunder and ponder the pillage, you might like it.  But do be warned the righteous can’t walk on water here they can only slip into the deep of it all and let the thoughts take you under where you can delight in the plunge and stay immersed in your imagination.  Fear doesn’t exist and lust rules the waters of your fantasy.  A poolside view on your knees after you’ve been drenched with desire and left craving more.  An urge, a thirst, a hunger, a devotion to the design of your own aspiration of asphyxiation by pleasure.  You simply need to suffocate with the overpowering want of your own disobedience.  With no master to punish you,  your iniquities can continue for as long as you let them.  They can take you anywhere you want.  Wicked, gluttonous behaviors are entertainment for the self-indulgent soul.  The buzz from the fetish, the luxury of satisfaction, the demented diversion of pain turned to pleasure are the objects desired in the corners of your turned on psyche.   Don’t be afraid to flip the switch of your sanity.  Embrace the maniacal kink.  Drown in the delicious delirium as you push off from the bottom of that passion pool only to be left weak and wanton.  Dripping in your damnation with animalistic eroticism vailed to the world as it’s hidden in your solo conception safe and sound where trespassers will not be violated unless they want to be.  Observation is allowed through creativity and the word play of the brainpower that streams live in the day dreams that occupy your stolen moments during the day.  But don’t forget the slumber of sloth that breeds at night attaching itself to your cognition like a vice.  The harder the better I say.  I see no shortcomings in the coveting of oneself through the lost in thought and found in touch debauchery of the sensualistic mind.  The only way to feed your appetite is to eat, so dig in and fill up on the aphrodisia of the delinquency of desire.  Wallow in the mire of your deviance and scandalize yourself, it’s ok, no ones watching.  An abandoned peep show for one.  Isolated by the forsaken and appreciated by the ghosts of your solidarity.  A flight of fancy fornication and the illusion of sin.

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