“When I wake from all my dreaming…”

I can’t watch porn anymore.

Not that I watched much to begin with, to be fair.

[I claim no moral high–ground, I simply prefer to play a sport rather than spectate.]

I can’t view it because I no longer see sex.


I see men thinking themselves conquerors.

While they merely feed an addiction— either her’s or their own.

For attention, money or validation.


I see producers abusing magick (yes, I spelled that correctly for those of you uninitiated).

Twisting a powerful, deeply–rooted cosmic Practice to their own petty ends.


Lastly, I see women getting their souls stabbed to death.

One thrust at a time.


And I’ve never been one for schadenfreude.



One Response to ““When I wake from all my dreaming…””

  1. Schadenfreude strikes me as a feminine sort of pleasure – it is not the satisfaction of the victor over the challenger, but rather the perverse joy of the spectator.

    They’re at the arena, but their feet are not on the bloodied sand; their asses are in the cheap seats and their thumbs are pointed down.

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