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There was a point during one of the stretches of forced abstinence where my self cutting became something I feel is much more dangerous and sinister. Much has been written about the effects of isolation and loneliness, and something that is interesting and far too many do not grasp, is how you can be isolated even among people in this day and age. To be isolated wreaks havoc on ones mental state. Being rejected by people, by groups, by the world over and over will grind anybody down over enough time, yet everyone says to keep trying. None of us are machines, there IS a limit to what we can do, how far we can push, how much we can take. For some that limit is less, for others it may be more, but there is still a limit.

This song is about the sexual self mutilation ritual that started taking me over. I harbor a lot of negative feelings towards society and how people act in it. I know that there are some decent people, and people that are not just floating through things, or people who are a little less selfish, but most people overwhelmingly I find weak. I have no problems with flaws, I have many, but I have a huge problem with people having little to no self analysis or self awareness, who never pick through the spiders web that is their actions, never ask "why" when it comes to what they do, and never able to apologize or make amends for the damage they cause.

I do not expect perfection, but I expect attempts.
This is something most in this sick society are incapable of at this time. This is matter for a whole other essay which talks about civilization, mass psychology, technology, and our removal from nature as we torpedo towards our demise.

This way of life, of being creates these afflictions, it creates the alienation which forged this ritual.

After months and months of masturbation because I could not find a sexual partner, and being constantly subjected to hyper sexuality in this world, it got to a point where hearing female voices would send me in to a haze that was sharpened with rage. Seeing women would make it even worse. So I go through days, having to exist in this society and repressing these urges. So many people, so many faces, so many rejections. I would spend hours on sites such as okcupid, plenty of fish, adult friend finder, craigslist, just trying to find somebody, at first to have a relationship with, and then just only seeking sex. Thousands of messages would be sent to women. These messages were not filthy, they showed that I actually read their profiles and wanted to have a conversation, which I did. I would rarely get even a reply. I would take a half hour to compose a good message, and it meant nothing.

I have an idea of how much women face. I have done a few social experiments to find out precisely what manner of filth they face everyday from the society. I sympathize utterly.

But to take that, and use it to say I should not be offended is bullshit to me. When individuals stop enabling pieces of shit and putting their time and risks to people that show a bit more depth and intelligence rather than a 6 pack and 9 inch cock, then that dynamic may start to change. Maybe not, but doing exactly what one has done will not alter the results.

This wore me down and as I would be alone, masturbating I would notice my climax being geared around rape and the emotional weight of revenge and retribution. I wanted the women who ignored me to pay. I wanted all the college kids in my town that I heard and saw to pay dearly. This continued to escalate until I started feeling rage during these orgasms, and it then progressed to me cutting myself with no. 11 surgical scalpels as I climaxed, with the images and thoughts of murder and rape deeply burning as I came.

This song tries to capture the ritual of it and drops in common imagery, sounds, and feelings that I would experience during it. They were all so similar that it was pretty uniform. Some nights I would hear less people because college would be out of session or it would be a week night, but it didnt matter because a face and voice on a porn video instilled the same anger, rage, and feelings. I would feel extremely predatory and there would be nights I just watched out my window as girls walked by to the house parties, or I would sit in the park and watch and follow somebody while fantasizing. There were nights I was so close to crossing the line that I would go to the hospital, and there were nights I was dangerously close and did not go to the hospital though I should have. I rolled the dice in those times and I found the strength to rather go home, sit by myself and do my ritual rather than detonate an emotional bomb in somebody else's life.

lyrics

sexual frustration
rooting deep in alienation
cages of rejection
where a restrained animal becomes an active predator

flame of the candle flickering
the draft gliding over naked skin
their voices carry in from darkened streets below

slow brewed desires, how torturous the months
every rejection
every unanswered message
every woman that would never give the time
becomes another pound of pressure

deny
denial
denied
there is no escape

stroking of the phallyus
the trigger has been pulled
heaving chest, flushed with rage
dulling the blade with a primal grunt
the monster feasts upon the mixing of blood and cum

the flame erect as I shrink
the smell of sex and revenge
their voices carry in from darkened streets below

it should have been you
it should have been you
it should have been you

credits

from The Exposing Of A Man (2016), released November 26, 2016

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Black Bloc Fredonia, New York

Emotionally devastated heavy electronics.

pro action.
anti hope.

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