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Manifesto (kind of)

Delicate monster assaults your sensibilities while you are in your waking dreams. Rabidly assaults your sensibilities and assails the erogenous zones of your imagination—nearly the entirety of your mind’s eye.

Delicate monster gives you roses and skulls. Delicate monster gives you busty virgins with big guns in short might-as-well-be-plaid skirts and doc marten’s.  Shredded sheer black hose held up by suspenders? Delicate monster gave those to you. Fragile nuns all pale and pretty of every hue, color, nationality and place of national origin. (Yup, Delicate monster gave those.) Decked out in a perfect matte of shiny black lipstick. (Again, Dm bestowed.) Hiked up Habits to reveal zippered thigh high, high-heeled boots in vinyl or patent leather. (Check.) How is it one is so demur without panties? (Now, that’s on you.) Nothing to do with being or not being Catholic. This transcends to a more primal religion and is as it has been always the iconography of pure pornography. Say to us “virgin” and we think “whore”; say to us “sister” and we think “lover”; say to us “father” and we think “daddy”.   Show us a crucifix and we expect tattoos. Where’s my converse all-stars? The red ones?! High-tops are for sissies. I want the ones I can walk on the back of; get my fishnets dirty.


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