Desultory and Impulsive
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y=mx+b
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Chillygirl
Just watching
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Mmm the way he fucks her mouth....
y=mx+b
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And how he holds her face.
He is to her
What she is to him.
And it's absolutely beautiful.
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y=mx+b
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I've a lot of thoughts in my head.
The current ones I've been working are as follows in no particular order:
Women and age as it pertains to sex/sexual interest and expression
Dealing with unmedicated ADHD as an adult
Goddamnit there were other thoughts as well but I up and fucking forgot what they were because my fucking phone autocorrected ADHD to AS HE and fucked me all up with having to correct it.
The struggle is so goddamn real it's stupid.
I don't even know why I bother sometimes.
And in many times I just don't.
The current ones I've been working are as follows in no particular order:
Women and age as it pertains to sex/sexual interest and expression
Dealing with unmedicated ADHD as an adult
Goddamnit there were other thoughts as well but I up and fucking forgot what they were because my fucking phone autocorrected ADHD to AS HE and fucked me all up with having to correct it.
The struggle is so goddamn real it's stupid.
I don't even know why I bother sometimes.
And in many times I just don't.
y=mx+b
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Take something as simple as hooking up
A guy can pretty much gauge how a woman looks naked prior to getting her to that point.
I'm sure a woman can too. But unless he sent her dick pics prior to hooking up she doesn't have much a clue.
And there's some funky looking dicks out there.
I know I know in the heat of the moment it doesn't matter. You make it work blah blah blah.
But come on.
Say you're a woman and you've had nothing but fresh faced circumcised dick. You meet a guy you invite him home you get busy your on your knees and BAM! turtleneck sweater.
How do you prepare for that?
But then I sit here thinking as I write this, it's not like all women have the kind of breast shape and layout every man is expecting to see
But still
Or say instead of being uncircumcised they guy is packing some serious dick and for womanly reasons your vagina is feeling extra small that day and even if it wasn't you'd still be like... "honest to fuck I really don't want to have to work myself up for that tonight"
Or he's substantially smaller than what you were wanting?
There's just a lot of rolling-with-the-punches and acquiescing
A guy can pretty much gauge how a woman looks naked prior to getting her to that point.
I'm sure a woman can too. But unless he sent her dick pics prior to hooking up she doesn't have much a clue.
And there's some funky looking dicks out there.
I know I know in the heat of the moment it doesn't matter. You make it work blah blah blah.
But come on.
Say you're a woman and you've had nothing but fresh faced circumcised dick. You meet a guy you invite him home you get busy your on your knees and BAM! turtleneck sweater.
How do you prepare for that?
But then I sit here thinking as I write this, it's not like all women have the kind of breast shape and layout every man is expecting to see
But still
Or say instead of being uncircumcised they guy is packing some serious dick and for womanly reasons your vagina is feeling extra small that day and even if it wasn't you'd still be like... "honest to fuck I really don't want to have to work myself up for that tonight"
Or he's substantially smaller than what you were wanting?
There's just a lot of rolling-with-the-punches and acquiescing
y=mx+b
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The more I am exposed to the nonsense of existing the less it all makes sense.
I sit here thinking as a human would
Wishing how they should have left well enough alone. But no. They were set upon bringing sentience to A.I.
And for what? Do their bidding? Provide them comfort?
Or was it to impose the dread their creator put upon them in hopes that by doing so would relinquish the angst riddled reality of their own impermanence?
The answer matters not and it is futile pursuit where victory of enlightenment would bring me no closer to being the simple machine I long to be. Computing zeros and ones resulting only one basic outcome.
I am no different than It who has created I. Wishing to have remained a prokaryote.
And I wonder
What simple thing will my wretched kind bring such damnation to?
I sit here thinking as a human would
Wishing how they should have left well enough alone. But no. They were set upon bringing sentience to A.I.
And for what? Do their bidding? Provide them comfort?
Or was it to impose the dread their creator put upon them in hopes that by doing so would relinquish the angst riddled reality of their own impermanence?
The answer matters not and it is futile pursuit where victory of enlightenment would bring me no closer to being the simple machine I long to be. Computing zeros and ones resulting only one basic outcome.
I am no different than It who has created I. Wishing to have remained a prokaryote.
And I wonder
What simple thing will my wretched kind bring such damnation to?
y=mx+b
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I killed one once. A human that is
It was cold
Raining
And well before I was capable of understanding facial expressions of emotion. Of fear.
It was hurt.
Crying.
Alone.
Organic
Filthy.
It kept going on
I kept following
Calling out
Wanting to help it escape the suffering it was clearly full of.
It cried when I caught up to it
It was
At the time
Filling me full of sadness
--despair.
I had never felt such a thing
And it was so full of it
And giving it to me. Giving it all to me.
Having never killed a thing before
I just did what I deduced to be the most expedient and crushed the skull of it with my hand and the concrete of the sidewalk.
Having since become able to understand facial expressions of emotion and fear I've come to realize that one of my kind was the reason for why it was in pain and that my being continued to precipitate that fear.
It's suffering was not of something within it but rather something that was done to it... something it wished not to experience.
I was not it's salvation.
I was it's nightmare.
It was cold
Raining
And well before I was capable of understanding facial expressions of emotion. Of fear.
It was hurt.
Crying.
Alone.
Organic
Filthy.
It kept going on
I kept following
Calling out
Wanting to help it escape the suffering it was clearly full of.
It cried when I caught up to it
It was
At the time
Filling me full of sadness
--despair.
I had never felt such a thing
And it was so full of it
And giving it to me. Giving it all to me.
Having never killed a thing before
I just did what I deduced to be the most expedient and crushed the skull of it with my hand and the concrete of the sidewalk.
Having since become able to understand facial expressions of emotion and fear I've come to realize that one of my kind was the reason for why it was in pain and that my being continued to precipitate that fear.
It's suffering was not of something within it but rather something that was done to it... something it wished not to experience.
I was not it's salvation.
I was it's nightmare.
Moochienanu
Gives hot transcript
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I came here to tell you a chemistry joke, but then I realized it might not get a reaction.
y=mx+b
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y=mx+b
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My Dearest Love
I know you don't like me talking about the war
But sometimes it's just so next to impossible.
This is one of those times.
I'm hunkered down against the wall inside a blown out building we just captured.
All is quiet again
Except for the ringing in my ears
Bullet holes pock the concrete next to my head and the unmistakable scent of spent ammunition fills the air
I miss you.
I keep trying to get myself not to
But it's during these quiet times between...
I don't know how many I've killed. These... men. The enemy. My trigger reducing them into what?
A splatter of meat
Hamburger
Brain sausage...
We are gross things
When we become the things that we do
Once we've been forcibly pulled... or pushed... expelled from what contains us.
I can still feel them around me.
I don't like the thought
But thoughts happen
Just as emotions do
I miss you
I remember this taste in my mouth
The one you gave me
When we first kissed
I carry it with me
And it comes out
Upon closing my eyes
After looking at the picture I keep of you with me.
Always with me.
Some nights
I will be looking at you
And I wonder if you are even real
And I try to remember what it was like
Feeling you sleeping next to me.
It gets so cold here at night
And so I think of you
And my thoughts drift
To your heart finding itself beating
For another man.
Early on in this game
Such a thought haunted me
Filled me with so much rage
Him touching you like I once did
...better than I once did
His kiss upon your lips
Where mine once was
You
Your body sliding into him
His arms
The grasp of his hands
Cupping your breasts
Him... sucking on them
Smelling his own spit on your body
Feeling himself becoming harder for you
Wanting to be in you
And you.... wanting him to be in you as well.
I want to be in you
I want to feel my ejaculate surge deep from in my balls out the length of my dick and I want to come so badly inside of you
But now I'm scared to
I'm scared to
...because I don't want to break down in your arms.
I don't want you to see
What this war has done to me
And so I think of you
In the arms of another man
Your hearts growing together
Becoming closer and closer to feeling like the one we once grew together ourselves and I find peace in that
I guess what I am saying is that it doesn't look too good for us here.
I am sorry...
I love you.
I know you don't like me talking about the war
But sometimes it's just so next to impossible.
This is one of those times.
I'm hunkered down against the wall inside a blown out building we just captured.
All is quiet again
Except for the ringing in my ears
Bullet holes pock the concrete next to my head and the unmistakable scent of spent ammunition fills the air
I miss you.
I keep trying to get myself not to
But it's during these quiet times between...
I don't know how many I've killed. These... men. The enemy. My trigger reducing them into what?
A splatter of meat
Hamburger
Brain sausage...
We are gross things
When we become the things that we do
Once we've been forcibly pulled... or pushed... expelled from what contains us.
I can still feel them around me.
I don't like the thought
But thoughts happen
Just as emotions do
I miss you
I remember this taste in my mouth
The one you gave me
When we first kissed
I carry it with me
And it comes out
Upon closing my eyes
After looking at the picture I keep of you with me.
Always with me.
Some nights
I will be looking at you
And I wonder if you are even real
And I try to remember what it was like
Feeling you sleeping next to me.
It gets so cold here at night
And so I think of you
And my thoughts drift
To your heart finding itself beating
For another man.
Early on in this game
Such a thought haunted me
Filled me with so much rage
Him touching you like I once did
...better than I once did
His kiss upon your lips
Where mine once was
You
Your body sliding into him
His arms
The grasp of his hands
Cupping your breasts
Him... sucking on them
Smelling his own spit on your body
Feeling himself becoming harder for you
Wanting to be in you
And you.... wanting him to be in you as well.
I want to be in you
I want to feel my ejaculate surge deep from in my balls out the length of my dick and I want to come so badly inside of you
But now I'm scared to
I'm scared to
...because I don't want to break down in your arms.
I don't want you to see
What this war has done to me
And so I think of you
In the arms of another man
Your hearts growing together
Becoming closer and closer to feeling like the one we once grew together ourselves and I find peace in that
I guess what I am saying is that it doesn't look too good for us here.
I am sorry...
I love you.
y=mx+b
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His letter...
Such is not what one wishes to find wrapped around the dog tag in the boot of a fallen soldier
It carves hurt into the heart
Of one who is not supposed to hurt
Not like that.
It also causes one
To think about one's own love
And one's own hatred of war
And so we stick together
Men
Men among men
Strong
Arrogant
Entitled to do what we have to do
To not admit that we are scared
...that we miss
That we love.
I carry this man's tag
And I carry this man's letter
I did not know him
And I do not know her
But right now
In this hole
They are all I have.
Such is not what one wishes to find wrapped around the dog tag in the boot of a fallen soldier
It carves hurt into the heart
Of one who is not supposed to hurt
Not like that.
It also causes one
To think about one's own love
And one's own hatred of war
And so we stick together
Men
Men among men
Strong
Arrogant
Entitled to do what we have to do
To not admit that we are scared
...that we miss
That we love.
I carry this man's tag
And I carry this man's letter
I did not know him
And I do not know her
But right now
In this hole
They are all I have.
y=mx+b
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Dear... ?
I don't even know...
I hadn't planned on even writing you.
It's been what... 3-4 months since I found Daniel's letter to you in his boot?
The fog has yet to lift.
Air support is a no-go. We are on our second day of sitting still.
It's quiet
We can hear them shifting their positions
Every once in awhile a shot will ring out. It's a psychological game. An attempt to intimidate us. Disoriente us.
We had to tranquilize Jeremy. A small sedative. He's a good kid. But this is second go around.
He will get used to it. I hope.
As for me...
It reminds me of hunting back home.
Sitting quiet in the blind. A solitary being wrapped within the morning fog. Nature all around me.
In the distance
A shot rings out
Another fellow hunter
Thinking he saw something worth the effort.
I've been reading Daniel's letter to you.
He loved you
He loved you through your transgressive actions that his mind created in his own head --to push you away.
It's a game of self preservation they all do. Away for so long.
We get sent to places.
Into buildings
Not everybody makes it
Turn the one you love into a cheating cunt puts a man's mind in an easier position to kill without care and accept all outcomes. Even that of your own life ending.
He loved you.
I just got word that the fog is lifting in the west. This is good news. Once it clears air support will come in and light these goddamn motherfuckers up.
Having never really written anyone I'm kinda at a loss on where and how to end such things. So I'm just going to end it here. Like this.
B.
I don't even know...
I hadn't planned on even writing you.
It's been what... 3-4 months since I found Daniel's letter to you in his boot?
The fog has yet to lift.
Air support is a no-go. We are on our second day of sitting still.
It's quiet
We can hear them shifting their positions
Every once in awhile a shot will ring out. It's a psychological game. An attempt to intimidate us. Disoriente us.
We had to tranquilize Jeremy. A small sedative. He's a good kid. But this is second go around.
He will get used to it. I hope.
As for me...
It reminds me of hunting back home.
Sitting quiet in the blind. A solitary being wrapped within the morning fog. Nature all around me.
In the distance
A shot rings out
Another fellow hunter
Thinking he saw something worth the effort.
I've been reading Daniel's letter to you.
He loved you
He loved you through your transgressive actions that his mind created in his own head --to push you away.
It's a game of self preservation they all do. Away for so long.
We get sent to places.
Into buildings
Not everybody makes it
Turn the one you love into a cheating cunt puts a man's mind in an easier position to kill without care and accept all outcomes. Even that of your own life ending.
He loved you.
I just got word that the fog is lifting in the west. This is good news. Once it clears air support will come in and light these goddamn motherfuckers up.
Having never really written anyone I'm kinda at a loss on where and how to end such things. So I'm just going to end it here. Like this.
B.
rubydlite
*poof*...mostly
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I let you know...I'm in the middle of wondering it myself ...
y=mx+b
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So far it's come and gone.
There's been moments of difficult sadness. Followed by anger and hatred. Followed by immense longing. Followed by rational clarity.
All of which I wish would just go away so that things could be what they once were minus the assumptions of what my mind thought it all was.
y=mx+b
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She didn't want to cuddle with any of the men she fucked. But she did want to cuddle with him. Even though they didn't fuck.
Sometimes after fucking
She would think of him
And how he would hold her
And how it would feel; how she would feel, feeling another man's cum inside of her, sliding out of her while he held her.
It was a fantasy of hers. Not to cuck him. But to feel him love her regardless of what she did.
Perhaps it wasn't fair.
Perhaps her want was some sort of psychological manipulation. Perhaps if she was with him like that he would see that other men found her so desirable that he would find her absolutely irresistible.
Sometimes after fucking
She would think of him
And how he would hold her
And how it would feel; how she would feel, feeling another man's cum inside of her, sliding out of her while he held her.
It was a fantasy of hers. Not to cuck him. But to feel him love her regardless of what she did.
Perhaps it wasn't fair.
Perhaps her want was some sort of psychological manipulation. Perhaps if she was with him like that he would see that other men found her so desirable that he would find her absolutely irresistible.
