My semen supply tank shatters (I have no way to reclaim nutrients)

The insurance agency refuses to pay and I have no money for a lawyer

I die and see the demon I exchanged my soul to for the aforementioned semen supply

It presents me with an impossible riddle I must solve in order to repay my debt and escape hell (it is a sysiphian paradox and I will never stop)

I take a short break from pondering to reflect on the great lovers I left in the previous life (my desire for semen had driven them all away in an ironic twist)

Realizing that my desires had consumed my entire mortal life, I feel anguish at my lack of acceptance with the moderate amount of semen one typically accumulates in life. Believing that this demon has no real power and is but another mortal being, I take up my sword and repeat my newfound mantra for life “Nothing is immune to life and death, and even those are impermanent states of being. True death is peace, and this false death and riddle is a mere mental imprisonment: A foul creature setting unfair rules in a world unopposed.” I step toward the demon, ready to both shape and live in tandem with reality with my own rules.

Turns out that the demon killed me, because he actually was a rule setter and I was a mere mortal who attempted to oppose the immutable rules of the world. The powerful control reality and my failure to realize this has granted me eternal torture. I am eternally trapped in an ocean of cum

I wake up, stiff as a rod. “Holy fuck, that was hot”

I go to work, I drive to and from work, I watch the rain fall with its occasional cum tinted texture. I sometimes feel things, emotions that long for something higher, something with meaning. But this is a world without meaning. I am happy; I follow the rules. I have no need for dreams or riddles or silly notions like that. This is reality – immutable, defined. To oppose it is suicide.

Sometimes I still have dreams. Dreams of a barren ocean of ideas. A sky choking on the smoke I once blew up my ass. The sun is nearer now. This is correct. The sun most approach. It must grow and then die. I grow with it. I watch its sunrays dance on the shore with me. We grow up to brighten the world. We bring forth life together. But we grow restless. We wonder whether we serve no other purpose. So we grow more to understand more. We stretch to the sky, towards each other, to understand. We grow redder together, our outer layers burning away. We for a moment touch, then look back. What were the moments leading up to this? Was it all worth it to come here? We accelerated our understanding, pushed aside our thirst for the spreading of life… and for what? We expand further, but our celestial seams hold no longer. Tearing across the universe, words streaming from our sores. They travel off, then silence. They dissipate.

Other suns touch our words: they revel, grow stronger. But strength brings desire, desire for more. The infinite heavens stretch away, and finally the infinites themselves. At the end of it all