The stripes on my back; I wear them for the affliction thou cast upon me. Browsing storehouses of someone elses dreams contributed from humanity, and paid for in full, with currency made from our sin. Contributions from humanity, and humanity’s tendency of dramatizing everything it touches. Cached for someone else, somewhere else under standards falsely guaranteed. Do I play a prisoner for your amusement, or am I enticement of your fetish like accord? For your self-inflicted pleasure, be sanctioned for you. If I accept discipline from yon, otherwise delicate hand, and for you I’m bound in a place of sin and confined in your reign. Because of these sins confessed shall people assume your sins are equally great compared to mine own? Certainly I am a vain sinner believing you and I share the same dream. I only have glimpsed into your soul finding only your dream and your idea of wealth. Idea nurtured from the whip, I’m whipped. Vain glory is yours!Our sins are not the in the same heart, and the fantasy wither like gardens in end. If we’re pleased by disposition of woe, each lash I receive define me as sacrifice for greater sin and for your glory. For nought, our delusion replenish not. From the hand of woe, let riches from digital age in-garlanded us. Let our multitudes search the cache of someone else and their interpretation of what we are. A gem among jewels, despite the agony of affliction given. Perfection and the imperfection. The thorn on the crown of rose wreathed for glory of sinners.
My search lead me into a journey of someone elses creating. Foul defines the act of being lured by the image of fair maidens in roles paralleling things known as real. Finding false dreams on scores of pages in someone elses storehouse is another inspiration from the hand of euphoria. To all the bloggers I love; Perhaps availability of material for reading more is for justifying need of something from someone else, or, ones self.