I have developed sexual orientations through colors.

Nazi Germany

Nazi Germany

Zubeer Adolf Hipster - KVAZAR MOLOCH
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I’ve been penetrated by colors. I can’t explain it to anyone who hasn’t felt it—how each color consumes my synapses, bleeds into my perception like some parasitic entity. They’re inside my head, I can’t stop it. Every hue, every frequency, drilling into the core of my nervous system. I don’t see colors anymore. They see me. I am the canvas, and they are raping my neurons with every photon of light. Red/blue/yellow/beige whatever slithers into my brain, twisting every impulse, every thought, like it owns me. It’s not just some visual stimulus, it’s a psychosexual virus infecting my cognition. I wraps around me like barbed wire, digs into my synapses, Colors are manipulative frequencies, each one more corrupt than the last.
When I see white/colorless panties in a Japanese vending machine, I don’t feel anything. But when I see a beige used panty, I feel something shift.
It’s not a fetish or a creepy thing, I promise. As I’ve explained before, it’s not me doing this—it’s just the way my brain processes stimuli. It's like a neural response, something deeper, outside of my control.

@_MVP_ @TsarTsar444 @BigJimsWornOutTires @PROMETHEUS @nullandvoid
 
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@StarvedEpi @Tabula Rasa @psychomandible @Enfant terrible @Jason Voorhees @noobs What should I do?
 
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@Vermilioncore @thecel @Defeatist I should stay at mental rehabilitation center:unsure:
 
Those Japanese folks are something else. Panties in a vending machine? Brutal. Those women are whores.
 
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When I see blue I think of my sorrow. When I see pink I think sexual reproduction and with that thought, the thought of death and mortality enters. You can’t think of reproduction and birth without thinking of death and mortality. It’s one and the same.

When the womb is inhabited, the woman is seen as a sort of Goddess — a life bearer. You forget she is a victim of penis and lust. But too bad that once she seed becomes realized, it becomes another sinner, another killer, another ruined, another corpse, another memory and another obstacle.

And colors bethink me of this.
 
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When I see blue I think of my sorrow. When I see pink I think sexual reproduction and with that thought, the thought of death and mortality enters. You can’t think of reproduction and birth without thinking of death and mortality. It’s one and the same.

When the womb is inhabited, the woman is seen as a sort of Goddess — a life bearer. You forget she is a victim of penis and lust. But too bad that once she seed becomes realized, it becomes another sinner, another killer, another ruined, another corpse, another memory and another obstacle.

And colors bethink me of this.
And when I see a variety of colors in a gamut, I see pampered little fucks lacking discipline hiding behind their vindictive cunt mothers.
 
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Not even the colors want me.
 
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