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             Is life logical, an orderly factual reality? Or is it chaotic, much like the act of conceiving, sperm in search of an egg. .
             I try to make some sense of it all. I search for God in my own way. I believe in his being. Yet I cannot with all my will follow the doctrine of His truth in man's interpretation of it. I see and feel this world I am of it. If there be a purpose for all things, what is my role? I've seen babies die and I felt a great loss. I can still vividly hear mothers wailing through the night. .
             This world is a white, blue, and green oasis that revolves in an otherwise barren universe. The tides of time pound the shores of existence and man in his fragile way tries to fight this onslaught of illogical force. He seeks a heaven of reason, compassion, and hope as an escape from this world that he doesn't truly understand. .
             From birth man suckles breasts of ill-gotten substance. Yet he persists. Woman, in her progression of life seems in perpetual bondage in her role as mistress of life. She is trapped, the chains shackle her legs apart, and she drips the semen of an institutional rape. Her hands are cut and bleeding from trying to break free so she can abort the product of this union of shame. Yet she cannot. She is beast of burden. .
             So we go on, and babies die and mothers continue to cry. While the world still revolves and as a race we are left perplexed to the meaning of it all. We fall in love, than hate, and from this ignorant union we conceive a new brood of lost beings. They, the bastards of this act will in turn procreate a world of lost beings. Until there is nothing in theory or fact of why we are a people of a planet in search of a meaning, in a universe that seems to hold any answer to why. .
             So tonight, I, a pawn of nature seek out that chained woman to devour her womb with my acid seed of mutant being. There it will feed off her until the umbilical cord that sustains our mortal futility feeds us no longer.

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