FuckologyDoesNotExist

From UoWiki

Sandstoned

       �Unicorn: a symbol of purity,

   Eunuch: a man-unmade totem of sanctity, searching for an ideal of sexual innocence.

Eunuchorn: a unicorn without the horn.� � Shameless

A wounded woman denies the eager reception of her wounding man. His bitterness rancorously transmogrifies into cancerous hate and then too sardonic mirth and back again and again infinitely repeating in a whirlpool of a meaningless maelstrom of angst. Their na�ve dalliance with deathly promiscuity becomes a hateful hurt for primitive forms dancing in caves. Thrust onto the sun-baked, scorched and hardened surface of their worlds by the infiltration of germination and contaminants all that can be wished is a regression of science, countenancing their relevant brilliance. Too late to succor seedless pods of piety or transmit beacons of hope, for the Triffids have been made welcome, showering him with baby�s piss, he thinks of its virtue. Tunneling towards tinsel town, tongue-tied, tearful and transparent she has been humiliated and shamed by his inadequacy. Was Elvis ever alive? Was he always dead? Doesn�t anybody know �out? She screams at his shadow on the lawn. Stoned on the sands of timeless waves crashing down like tears kissing goodbye to childhood. Now she stares at the ground, hunting fervently for his tracks, the trail forever so long grown oh so cold. Birds in the sky flying low no longer in her hands, fate less, remembering forgotten freedom she needs to remind herself of how lonely she is, was and will forever be. Sexuality bounces off her like rubber, there is no feeling only rebound. The heart no longer beats, bled dry by his vampiric specter, looming tantalizingly, fracturing her brittle, fragile fading soul. Dreams? she loves novel nocturnity! Alas! A new way to die upon every waking dawn. Morning has broken her tired mind, too visceral a dreamscape shattered beyond trace elements.

   In time the hair on the napes of their necks stand on end awaiting haircuts from the �His �n� Hers� swords of Damocles. Exchanging exhilaratingly anticipated glances, in the mirror of life�s washroom, sweated , chastened and un-blessed universally they cry: � Loving u was like a FuCking prostitute�

� FuCking u was like a loving bore!� ��������������������������������������. De-mystify the unicorn and mythologise the eunuch and give back the horn. Society castrates physically, mentally and emotionally shaming and blaming. Producing sexual impurity for proto-security a hornless nexus of love.

�@$?$�%