I’m just excited to see my Lord and Savior Baphomet represented in such glorious Italian stone. I do hope his eyes gaze upon me, and that my allegiance is recognized. I don’t know. Notice me senpai, notice me. Part of me wishes that angel statue would come to life, and King Baphomet would rise, and two eternal juggernauts would do battle right here in the middle of the city. But for what is this battle raging you ask? I don’t know. What stands at the center? To that I say; My soul is at the center, offered up to the ageless ones. Only to be torn in twain.
It’s like you can’t have one without the other, you know? Like I’m equal parts God and the Devil, a cloak of shame covers this man and only supreme light will wash my body clean. But how could that light possibly reach me with the thick clouds of indecency that surround my poor soul? So I carry my wrong doings on my back, like some kind of tormented hiker. Lost in the hills of misfortune, looking desperately for that peak, to rescue him from the valley of depraved habitual self pleasuring but again I find nothing. Except for sweaty devastated loneliness and a thousand judging eyes staring back at me, from the cover of a stolen Victoria Secrets catalogue. I didn’t take your mail Mrs. Pemberton! Stop asking me that. Leave me alone! I don’t know. Satan’s pretty cool!