The Enigma Beneath The Skirt

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It's chimerical at best. nirvana, the horizon feverishly longed. Can only be likened to the desire to steal one more glimpse at the looking glass...only to forget the moment we turn away. Oh, the gossamer frailty of the human memory! We look, we se...

It's chimerical at best. nirvana, the horizon feverishly longed.

Can only be likened to the desire to steal one more glimpse at the looking glass...only to forget the moment we turn away. Oh, the gossamer frailty of the human memory!

We look, we see, we forget. All in a matter of minute... timelessness.

And yet so is the great enigma.

The tyranny of virginal mysticism.

The sage...the idiot...none the wiser. The brave...the cowardly... the mighty...the weak...the scholar...the ignorant...the civilized...the barbarian...the look of happy helplessness twinkle forever in eyes bewildered.

The king and the vagrant all resist helpless. Screaming in blissfully terror or in mythical guffaws of resigned helplessness. Ti's nether region of temporary insanity...baffling thoughtlessness and obscene joyous minuteness.

What man his sword wouldn't unsheath- scabbard forgotten?

David espied Bathsheba in private ablution and royalty scorned. Solomon in a thousand splendid ways his baritone wooed a myriad lasses in chambers royal. The English monarch his throne abdicated for skirts un-royal. And Bill of Monica Lewinsky notoriety could only blubber nonsensical gibberish...caught hand in the teal...the wrong teal t'was!

And lest I forget... to minds over imaginative, Adam, Eve and the Serpent were never really Adam, Eve and the Serpent...but the apple yonder, betwixt luxuriant hairs was humanity's undoing. What sublime hogwash though awash a lot to be desired.

And so the story of man without womb continues.

And many shall come and the way of fathers before them shall follow. Helpless, in their idiotic obsession they shall get as in a black hole sucked in. And they will be powerless in their somnambulistic trance until their Samsonic machismo will be whittled down.

And it is not for an accursed fruit or a miserly bowl of soup that they will sell their inheritance. But this time for an illicit tumble in the abominable hay. For a forbidden piece of tumultuous ecstasy.

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