I give, offer and host far too often.
I cater to the weaker minds while honoring the more advanced.
Surprisingly enough, this approach to human interaction never results in much praise, respect or recognition for myself.
Despite this, I have this uncanny ability to be oppressed until payment.
The incapable are never enslaved, or what I should say, introduced to intentions conspicuous enough to elude to it.
I can't seem to fathom, nor do I have the courage, to divine why I and It see it fit that this is my path in life.
Why won't I be allowed to show up, prove through exemplary action and receive reward and compensation upon doing so?
Why must all those allowed by It to cross my path in an authoritative state first beat me due to hidden insecurity as a master's Master, and when he or she is finally worn and I am somehow still standing, per their confusion, be rewarded a settlement?
Regardless of their education or degree, I still encounter this odd quality of human behavior and the more mortal, the worse.
To hell with The Master!
He's gained his whip only by vote of popularity, an indication of his own profanity.
Judge the orange that has fallen into my hands by means of gravity alone without envy, Master!
There's no room for bias while a man's life is left to trial!
I can only maintain to be myself, truly.
But in the Court of Universal Law, for Heaven's sake, dedicate a trial room in my honor, since I must be present so often.
I confess, Your Honor.
I am no Whore, pandering to the weaknesses of those present down here as prey and prey alone.
No, Your Honor, I see no benefit in spouting deceit for amusement of myself or others. It takes much less energy to reveal the truth of the matter and let it go. The casting of demise that is done athletically by those of my peers is done by letting the recipient of the truth digest what has taken place, in their due time, while I remain free from my peers' karmic compensation.
I also confess, Your Honor, beautiful women are not the ones ugly on the inside. Please wipe the faces of your lying, Whorish natured of love interests and administer anesthesia especially designed for phallic use and come to the awareness of an spiritually educated man; that you mistook large eyes and a suspiciously available vagina as an Universal sign of beauty and worthiness. After all, Your Honor, she can fathom, name and receive a monetary price.
No, Your Honor, I did not pursue this brutal path and therefore this very trial, where my life lays in your hands, as mortal as my own, trembling from the brink of spontaneous evolution for the sake of survival in order to procure and secure a man of money, fame or otherwise. Believe It or not, I was reared better than that.
No, Your Honor, I don't feel like the most attractive woman in the room based on looks, personality or spirituality, but I'd gladly request that you try the Whore and or her John that claims that I do. And if you see it fit, have me question them both, Your Honor. Because the equal and opposite of a Gold Digging Whore is a Huntress of a Wife With Her Own Mine and I'd wager my favor with the jury that I'd find her guilty of envy of my Way and him guilty of submitting to his base need for fruit, no matter the caliber of who offers.
I will eat from my settlement, only this time with honor.
Before you come to a verdict, Your Honor, on the grounds of my worthiness as a Witch, consider my past, Your Honor.
Product of my environment or restriction thereof, I have no choice but to stand strongly, proudly, mightily, courageously and unperverted in my chosen ways of righteousness until the guillotine drops.
I am militant, without political initiation.
I am religious without baptism.
I am protected outside of wedlock and if the court be so bold as to protect a lesser magician over myself, my Executioner better hope my ghost has no interest in his dreams and that of his children.
That is all.
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