Buddhism is dead. I took nutrients from its corpse and I'm sharing them with you. Some day I will die and all of the nutrients from my corpse will bear the same name as me. There might be a number next to me, the number of organisms feeding on my dead body. If there's few, you might be hesitant, but if there's many then it's a double edged sword. It may be proven safe, but there will be far less to find.
Luckily, Buddhism hasn't been picked clean. I've got more time because of it, which is nice. Some others might fight with me over the slivers I've found, but that's just the way it is. It's a major world religion, and the higher the number the less there is to find. It means so many things that it means almost nothing at all. Does that remind you of anything? It reminds me of a corpse almost picked entirely clean.
I could engage in rituals, shameless goon sessions performed while looking at my fetish of Karma. All of the pleasurable things in my life being earned, and all of the painful things in my life being proof of something truly good out there... that my suffering is sexy. So, so sexy. That everyone else suffering is sexy too. That there isn't anything I need to do except sit around and jack off, because true good is happening anyways.
The pursuit of freedom from suffering, and the belief in true justice happening all the time. At least to the masses... Thing is, I've been eating those who fell dead while eating Buddhism. They're all just one mass, and they all go by the same name. I'm someone who was born in Missouri, in The United States. I'm descended from Europeans, and a few people from Canaan. Real doesn't exist.
Be honest with yourself, you probably have a fetish. If I was asian you would probably think I'm more sexy. Same knowledge, same words, same intended effect, but instead seasoned with the egregore of asian culture. I probably make you want to vomit. I relish in that, but the part of me that feels nothing is what's walking forwards to the end of this phrase. I serve this bowl to you with my legs being the last thing on my mind.
Otherwise this wouldn't be here, would it? I wouldn't have left the kitchen. Maybe I would have stumbled and dropped it before it could reach you? Either way, here I am. If I pissed in my mouth a fair few of you would have been ready to cum. That's ok, though... I don't want you to cum. If you cum while reading this, fine, but I didn't set out for that to happen. It makes no difference to me because I feel nothing.
That is to say, I think it might fuck you up if you cum to this. You'll probably either snag or reinforce a really unhealthy kink. Ever heard of The Suicide Sutra? Siddhartha left on a trip and told his followers to meditate on death at a burial grounds, and then they started killing themselves and eachother. When he got back from his trip and saw the chaos he told his followers to consider breathing sexy instead. Ok, I added that last part.
Whatever you might be thinking about when you're sitting around and jacking off isn't my business, but don't go out and do fucked up stuff. Someone like me should always be separate from things like these, and you shouldn't go out of your way to do fucked up stuff with whoever makes stuff that tickles your pickle. Consent is sexy.
If everything meaningful in this dessicates entirely into a penis drawing, just know that I find it hilarious every time a dead metaphor exits your lips. No, this isn't porn. If you're jacking off to this then I pity you, but I guess there might be a healthy way to go about it. It's a metaphor, ok? If it becomes more screen time than real life time, then that's a problem. Screens are metaphor, and life is fact.