At the age of seven, my eyes were opened to the filth of gratification. It was so obscene that it robbed my naivety. I tried to redeemed myself but to no avail. I got hooked and bonded by the disgraceful deed of my unbecoming.
At the age of ten, the last gleam of purity was drowned in the abyss. I was enslaved to the carcass of my wretchedness. Romanticizing lust and gusto of my youth. Lewd acts of childishness seeping through my veins. Tingling sensation of unwarranted libido.
See also: Twenty-Eighteen
At the age of fourteen, I have seen so much that I was accustomed to the vulgarity of the trend. The sensation of arousal. The delightful pleasure and the feast of nakedness. I found myself being caught up between the sacrament and perversion.
At the age of nineteen, I was brought to a new dimension of satisfaction. The Utopia of adrenaline rush that opened a new orifice of excitement. Again did I try to free myself to the carnal fantasies of this world. But my leash was made of palladium of immorality, I was a mess!
See also: Ode Of A Broken Son
At the age of twenty something, my lecherous heart was fondled by a great lover. It felt so great that for a while, the palpitating tiger was tamed. It was short, shorter than the motion of the ocean. My cravings became more toxic, that I might end up next to a patient with a silent crippling disease.
At the moment, I reminisce those years of my unbecoming. I fought the battle, but it was just partial, not full. Every night since I was seven, I was haunted by a nightmare. It was grim, it was inducing.
At the moment, I thought of who I was and what was I made for? I am Dreyfus, your typical neighbor who suffered from a silent misery. I am like you in so many ways. One foot is living in the vanities of life, while the other foot is living in the arcane kingdom in my sanity.
At the moment, I have settled in my redemptive conscience. But once in a while I am still haunted by the erotic nightmares of my misery. I want to be free!
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