Kalo Asmi Loka-ksaya-krit Pravardho, Lokan Samartum iha Pravattah
"Now I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds."
Bhagavad Gita
We remember how it was a few years back:
Rage has driven Mugen to the crotch of lust. The reasons maybe as simple as a philandering boyfriend, or a boyfriend draining our boy's resources for his own gain. Sometimes it was a matter of reassessing his market value after someone ditched our boy and crushed his hopeful heart. On special occasions, troubles at home flung him to the doors of bath houses. and strangers' beds. Those were the days he would not think twice of fighting back. Sanity restored, he would claim victory like nothing had ever happened.
It was for his own good.
Tired and exhausted from work, a forbidden rule broken by his utol resulted in a forced exile. He arrived home looking forward to a restful union with his bed. What he saw however were dirty dishes on the floor, the sister in his room and her boyfriend, with her, perhaps cuddling each other in his bed before our boy arrived. Disgusted, (for he never stayed in her room for more than ten minutes) he ran away to keep his fury from exploding. And now that he has entrenched himself in an internet shop somewhere in Cubao, old instincts begin to claim its domain.
The brooding darkness whispers:
F is just a ride away.
He commands the meat market of chat-rooms. All he needs to do is seal the deal
Or go home, lock himself up and sleep until the rage finally subsided.
The choices are easy.
Rage has driven Mugen to the crotch of lust. The reasons maybe as simple as a philandering boyfriend, or a boyfriend draining our boy's resources for his own gain. Sometimes it was a matter of reassessing his market value after someone ditched our boy and crushed his hopeful heart. On special occasions, troubles at home flung him to the doors of bath houses. and strangers' beds. Those were the days he would not think twice of fighting back. Sanity restored, he would claim victory like nothing had ever happened.
It was for his own good.
Tired and exhausted from work, a forbidden rule broken by his utol resulted in a forced exile. He arrived home looking forward to a restful union with his bed. What he saw however were dirty dishes on the floor, the sister in his room and her boyfriend, with her, perhaps cuddling each other in his bed before our boy arrived. Disgusted, (for he never stayed in her room for more than ten minutes) he ran away to keep his fury from exploding. And now that he has entrenched himself in an internet shop somewhere in Cubao, old instincts begin to claim its domain.
The brooding darkness whispers:
F is just a ride away.
He commands the meat market of chat-rooms. All he needs to do is seal the deal
Or go home, lock himself up and sleep until the rage finally subsided.
The choices are easy.
But the consequences might be difficult to bear.
