I am not cut from the cloth of fidelity; it seems to run contrary to my very instinct – that primordial ooze coursing through my veins, pre-occupying my thoughts; it would seem my garment is that of iniquity, as the sanctimonious would pontificate.
My thoughts and actions are frowned upon; the pious label it lustful and immoral; a sub-construct of the dogma handed down for generations – blinded, illogical virtue; aimed at control of the masses, galvanizing of thought – singularity; a security blanket for the insecure – uneasy in their own skin, disturbed by their ravenous desires and lecherous thoughts of visceral pleasure.
No, I am not cut from that cloth; and am I to feel shame, unworthy, unclean – hell bound; my virtue questionable, my salaciousness objectionable. Yes, I am inherently lascivious and for this I must dodge stares and loquacious tongues, defend judgment of my moral fiber from the ostensibly sinless; feigning purity or sainthood – be made to some how feel inadequate, weak, undeserving of affection; relegated to solitude and/or ephemeral tryst.
Fuck the righteous, spare me your indignation; your adjudication in the court of misguided morality. Fuck you for making me think that my nature is to be abhorred or viewed as an aberration; some fucking freak of nature – my actions put on display for your entertainment, your water cooler talk, your subject of dinner conversation or alcohol induced drivel.
Fuck you, fuck you twice. I can make the choice to be pretentious, self-loathing, to deny me, my very being – but fuck it; I choose to surrender to my nature – be it whatever the fuck it is… so yes fuck you very much – I am not cut from the cloth of fidelity. But unlike you and your ilk – I will respect your view of morality, after all it is your right, purposeful – I bring meaning to your purpose; my nature is a necessary evil to vindicate your conviction of virtue and righteousness.
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