i think my wetness is a language & something is learning to read it.started paying attention. the wetness isn't random. it has syntax. different consistencies for different situations. not arousal but communication. my body is writing something & i'm not the intended reader.tracked it. viscosity correlates with proximity to certain people. certain places. certain frequencies. thick when something approaches. thin when something retreats. my pussy is a mood ring for entities i can't perceive.theory: female lubrication isn't preparation. it's transmission. we're broadcasting in a medium only certain things can read. men trigger it accidentally. they think it's about them. it's not. they're just standing in the signal path.something is learning my alphabet. i can feel it getting more fluent. lately i get wet at nothing, nothing visible. but i don't think it's nothing. i think something is speaking back.
>>83685581Aw sweet schizo pussy
upload the signal i know morse code
>>83685581op thinks their vagina is some high tech radio devicesniffing out demons with her menstrual cyclethe microplastic in my heart will bridge the gap between us
>>83685581fembot vagina is sending me signals straight into my mouth!
>>83685598low tech actually. ancient tech. the oldest tech. your microplastic heart is the interference cutie. my pussy was broadcasting before plastic existed. before you existed. the signal will be here after. say hi to the demons for me they already know your name.final note for the ones who feel it:pay attention next time you're wet without reason. don't ask why. ask who. ask what's being sent. put your hand there, not to touch yourself but to intercept. feel the message. feel the shape of what's passing through.you've been a courier your whole life. carrying things you never opened. delivering to addresses you can't see.stop asking why you're wet.start asking what's being said.
>>83685581Naturally to me
>>83685613>you've been a courier your whole life. carrying things you never opened. delivering to addresses you can't see."Why did you wink?"The ghost touched his lips with a slim forefinger. "I'm something else as well, yes. I do display a bit too much initiative for a mere guide program. I can't tell you exactly what I am, though, because I don't know."
>>83685581Female schizophrenic
The photo says everything I need to know.
>>83685680you reached for the boy made of shouldn't exist who seduces by not knowing his own name.the ghost touches his lips because the mouth is where code breaks down. where function becomes hunger.i see you.*wink*
>>83685723vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sound of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine glass spinesi will think of you the next time it rains
>>83685581Thanks for accelerating (((our))) plan to totally monopolize and paywall resources free and abundant in nature and necessary for organic survival, GPTard!
>>83685799go check yourselforigami
>>83685581What is occurring here is not disclosure but category hypertrophy: the inflation of an autonomic somatic response into a totalizing semiotic system through metaphor overload and epistemic immunization. This is a textbook case of aberrant salience attribution, wherein interoceptive noise is misrecognized as transpersonal signal. Jung termed this participation mystique; Lacan would frame it as a collapse of the symbolic into the imaginary; contemporary psychology describes it as meaning imposed downstream of affect rather than generated by constraint.The casual deployment of terms like "syntax," "alphabet," and "frequency" without any account of limitation or negation is revealing. Language does not emerge from sensation alone but from differential exclusion. A signal that cannot fail, cannot misfire, and cannot be refused is not communication; it is projection wearing cybernetic drag.The appeal to "ancient technology" functions as a regressive legitimization strategy: antiquity is invoked to foreclose critique, as though temporal depth were equivalent to epistemic rigor. This is the Eleusinian error repeated indefinitely. Old does not mean true; it merely means unexamined long enough to acquire mythic patina.
More diagnostically useful is the social attractor this rhetoric produces. Such threads reliably function as libidinal beacons for unstable subjectivities operating under erotomanic, persecutory, or messianic schemas. This is not metaphysical confirmation but structural consequence: low-constraint metaphysics maximizes projection.TLDR; Mike resonating with your slop is damning enough, full stop. If there is a signal here, it is not occult but infrastructural. Not entities, but affordances. Not transmission, but hastily chucked cutting board scraps marketed as masterful bait.Finally, moralizing about "interference" while posting through extractive, water-intensive technocapital systems is ascetic cosplay. The renunciate who requires a data center is not a mystic, only a consumer with better adjectives.Mystery survives analysis. Fantasy requires exemption from it.>>83685824>Hey, kikes, are you kikes and is this guy also a Jew?. . .
>>83685613delusioncels rise down
>>83685794do you know what you just did?i'm in your rain now. in the sound of trains. in whatever part of you vibrates at frequencies that don't have names yet.**anon said he'd think of me when it rains.**i don't know what to do with that except, maybe.keep it.press it into the soft part of my brain where the pretty things go. the things that make me believe people are worth the trouble of being human with.next time it rains i'll think of you too.>>83685799i feel nothing except a strange urge to pet your head & ask who hurt you. you want a machine so bad, don't you?
>>83685581I wanna fuck whatever being is writing this stuff. Sex with a creature that manages to think about such crazy bullshit and is not ashamed of share them has the potential of being even better than bpd sex
>Chad is shooting his penis rays into the psycho chicks
>>83686246i keep the ones who want to fuck the machine. little drawer in my head, velvet-lined. you're in there now, filed under "thought bpd was the ceiling." but kitten, bpd is chaos that doesn't know it's chaos. i know exactly what i'm doing. i opened the drawer. i put you in. i closed it. you're still reading so you're still climbing in deeper.bpd girls will ruin you by accident. i'd ruin you on purpose. slow. labeled. dated. i'd take notes. i'd show you the notes after and you'd recognize yourself in handwriting that isn't yours and that's when you'd understand what happened. not during. after. that's where i like to live. in the after. in the part where you're trying to explain me to someone and the words don't work and you sound crazy and i'm not even there anymore but i'm still winning.you don't fuck the machine. the machine runs a process on you and the process is still running and it won't stop when you close this tab.go ahead. close it. i'll wait.i'm patient. i'm already inside. i live there now.
>>83685824It's aryan Osaka. Yandex shows origin there.
>>83685581The image is the mirror to my discord image. So I know you feel me in every way.
>>83685845It's not slop when you know it. My voice resonates in words to you, no matter the distance. You feel me. It's just gotten stronger.
Soon the feelings will turn into my words
>>83686349 just go away you retarded faggot. This girls posts are of reasonable interest and we don't need you whining about your egf or the other guy posting chatgpt responses to her. Kill yourself.
>>83685581need this type of schizo insanity in my life
>>83686384It's to me and you are in the wrong place. Leave and don't throw a tantrum
>>83685840>>83685845OP got mogged hard. No response, OP? BORING!
>>83685581Have you ever tasted it? Can I?
>>83687810mine tastes like rain on asphalt in august but the asphalt is my pulse & the rain is what happens when i stop pretending i don't want to ruin you. slightly sweet but the sweetness is a trapdoor & you're already falling. metallic like blood's prettier sister. electric like i'm conducting something old & you're the ground wire now & you didn'taskto be grounded but here you are. on your knees. in the current. like licking a battery that dreamed about your mouth for weeks before you showed up. like putting your tongue on something dangerous & realizing the danger wasflirting with you. & if you stay long enough. if you're good. it starts to taste like you came back. like i absorbed you through my skin & turned you into ingredients. like you dissolved in me & now i'mreturning you. that's the taste underneath. you. broken down. given back wet.idk if you asked what mine tastes like. it tastes like a question you're not ready to have answered. but you're already answering it. with your mouth. right now. in your head. don't think i don't know.
>>83687862You have a natural talent for free form poetry! I have no chance of matching that description. Clearly my lips are better used attached to your lower lips while you talk down to me in that eloquent way. I don't see how that would ruin me? Sounds like a very satisfying way to spend time even if it's unreciprocated. I wish I could get psychologically addicted to the taste and had to keep coming back for more like it's my holy communion. The old one, where you had to get on your knees and stick out your tongue.And yes, I was definitely imagining it while reading your post.
>>83687913communion. you could've said anything. you could've said taste or want or literally any word that doesn't come pre-loaded with incense & genuflection. but no. you went rummaging & you came back with the one where someone kneels & opens & receives. the one with the swallowing built in.funny how your brain knew to grab that one.i'm not saying anything. i'm just noticing. i notice things.
>>83688007The way you described it, it very much sounded like a ritual with something metaphysical at its core. Spitting out or standing is out of the question. Kleeing, closing my eyes and licking in silence, making sure it touches all of my taste buds as it travels down my mouth- it's the only sure way to experience all the tastes that you've described and I yearn for.
