Here's
another interesting little thought:
All I see is sex and carnal desire. Beg pardon, Infernal Desire. I understand,
Dante and De Sade would nod in unison.
And yet?
Did the Klischee catch up with us? The very Klischee we created as our carmouflage,
did we embrace it that eagerly? Masquerade, indeed.
Do we thus comply to the tastes, the expectations of the Kine, giving them what
they expect, even if they will not remember, one way or the other?
Does it ease the hunt? Mayhaps, but then, in our arms? I can not see the point
in going the whole bloody way, nein?
Does it spice the plasm, this act of copulation?
For
all I know, our incisors are our only phallic symbol and instrument, penetrating.
And, in correspondence, our lips poor substitutes for the vaginal folds, embracing.
There, you see. The only pleasure we know - and it is far beyond sexual pleasure,
nein? - is the oral delight of sucking blood.
And in the end, we are but androgynous, asexual creatures, sind wir nicht?
So. Where is the fucking point?
Gute Nacht, meine Freunde. Malekin
P.S.:
Mayhaps I just think I am missing something. It can be frustrating, to be embraced
as a virgin. Yet. There is always room for improvement, nein?
Come to think of it: We never have problems with our Potence, do we?
Pardon the pun. Malekin