I
will not speak your filthy language, foul my mouth with your
disgusting words... I shall become a person, if not fluent, then
atleast capable, in the language of manipulation and violence, of
deceit and of bloodthirsty revenge... do you think I am some whore of
tongues, a harlot of filthy dogma, open to fuck for the payment of a
price? No, I am the master of language, you are my little bitch, I
know what to write, and how to write it, and I do not need you
telling me which book to write, and neither do I need a God and his
proposed providence, a God padding me on the shoulder when I do or do
not masturbate, but looks away in discontent when my heart bleeds the
tears of dejection...
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