No, I do not have a gore fetish, I go on these blogs to appreciate and worship the natural, viscerality of life, the blood that feeds all of us, the grass that grows from what dies, from what lives, from what suffers and makes suffer, while I move my weenie around in tune to the drumbeat, of the earths minds heartbeat, until that prophetical, theorerical lifegiving milks pools at the tip to shoot out, and give life to death, to wither and die, be wasted down the drain of my sink, the gullet, of a greatly thirsting beast of man with many mouthes, willing to sup upon all fluid from blood, to drool, to urine and feces, to soap and water, to toothpaste and spit, this meat of man, this vomit, this detritus, what earth created of man and what man created from earth, to once again be formed as an animal, killed, eaten by man, killed, eaten by vulture, killed, eaten by germ, eaten by man, killed, photographed. Don't you dare say I'm beating off to dead bitches.
