FOR MEN ONLY: Letter from Lust to a man
Hello there fool,
Yes, that’s right. My lustful, demonized and desperate fool. That’s what you are, no? Not just a fool; what’s most important is that you are MY fool. How did it go today with your so-called “purity journey”? Did you watch that porno again? Wait, don’t tell me! You fell again. Hahahaha! I knew you couldn’t do it. You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re a fool. You amuse me, fool. I think I learn from your mistakes more than you do. I know your patterns. You tell yourself you won’t do it. You go near the door of my house. You hope I won’t come out. And when I do, WHAM! I always get you by the jugular! You feel the poisonous lustful venom stream through your veins. You like the feeling but it’s killing you. Hahaha! You pray to the Maker vowing to never repeat it, but I know you will always be back. You can’t resist me. Admit it. I’m the kryptonite that you adore. The Achilles heel that you worship. The Delilah to your strength. And yet you can’t admit that you are addicted. That’s okay. I like you in self-deception mode. You are more fun that way than when you are treating me like a cancer. There are days you grow a backbone and call me filthy names like “sin”. I wonder who taught you such bad words. Was it your pastor? I hope not, because I got him too just like I got you. The funny thing is that you run to me when you are stressed yet you loathe me after we are done. Ha! Truly, you know you are addicted when you seek solace in the very thing that brings you grief.
Anyway, I hear you are now into masturbating and have convinced yourself that since certain animals do it too, then you must be fine. Terrific! Just terrific! You have seen yourself as the beast I deem you to be; my little, beastly, addicted fool. I need you to see yourself as an evolved Zinjanthropus as opposed to one made in the image of the Maker. This way you will compare yourself to lower beings such as penguins. This way you live for no higher power. You just render yourself to my lustful waves of death, hoping to evolve out of your addiction. By the way, I love how your life is falling apart even when I’m not around. Looks like I will get my hell bonus early this century! Hahaha! You are your own self-destructing bomb. I’m glad I’m only doing backup duty. I got a report from a familiar spirit that you have accepted this addiction as a gene problem. Like I said, I love you in self-deception mode. Between High Heaven and Hellish Hades, the only gene you have that I know is a sinful gene from your father, Adam- bless his rebellious soul. And now that we have established the debacle of your sexual failure, I hope you’re not thinking of leaving. We have plans for you straight from Tartarus. We are pleased to hear that you have already implemented our first plan: you are afraid of making purity decisions in advance because you fear you will break them. Excellent! That’s my fool of a boy! That’s right where I want you. In self-doubt. And you probably do it because you think you will win this battle by your own strength. As long as you believe that, you will never decide in advance to do the right thing and you will never have the power to overcome when the rubber meets the road. Hahaha! You amuse me, fool. I love your fear. You have every right to fear. Because once I am done with you, I’m coming for your woman. I will break her heart so hard that she will hate men because of you. She will hate the idea of marrying a man. You will sear the father wounds she has harboured all her youth. I loved her father, by the way. I’ve commissioned him as a key sponsor to some university slay queens. He’s doing a good job and your woman hates him for it. Maybe you are right, fool. Maybe you don’t deserve a good woman like her. She deserves a better man; a pure man. But be sure that after your break up or divorce, I will go after that pure man as soon as I am done chewing you to smithereens.
You see, my strategy is simple, fool; emasculate the man; discourage the woman and break the family. In that specific order. Pretty genius, huh? Unlike you, I have a plan to help me succeed. You on the other hand, just wake up each morning and hope that things will align in your favour on that day. What a joke! You really think this is a phase in your life. I’m glad your sensual friends from church call the idea of a godly plan legalistic. And you get surprised why you keep visiting my lucrative porn sites. All the while using your cash to fill the pockets of my agents. That’s why I love you, fool; you’re my cash-cow and I will milk you dry. Wait, scratch that; I hate you! I hate you so much that I am determined to kill you if I can. But don’t worry. I won’t do it at once. I’m not that gracious. Yours must be a slow painful death. It must happen bit by bit, methodically and surgically- one lustful failure at a time, all building up to one grand embarrassing moral crash. Every possible moment of your day must be invested in lust for me to succeed. I will trap you in your workplace. I will trap you in your gym. I will trap you with the sight of all these girls on the street. Your neck will rupture as you keep turning your head to take in their youthful forms with drooling lust. And as long as I can make you think that the problem is their tight dressing and their short skirts, my killing process is effective. Keep believing that your core lust problem comes from outside of you. And when you start lusting on the ones dressed modestly, I’ll be sure to convince you that they were sexually suggestive in their gait or batting of the eye. See, fool, I need you to blame! Blame the billboards. Blame the lustful photos on your Instagram and social media pages. Blame the Government. Blame the girl child empowerment. Blame the feminist. Blame your parents. Blame the movies and series you watch! And I hope you don’t plan to stop your binge-watching spree. I need it to convince you that a woman must have ridiculous sexual appeal in order to be beautiful. I need you to hate the sight of your own woman and desire that of the woman you don’t have. So I need you to blame, fool. Blame! Blame! Blame! Blame everyone for your struggle but yourself. Blame the guy that sent you the porn link. Blame your traumatic childhood. Because as long as you blame, you’re my fool.
Also as long as you blame you can’t pray. And this works to my advantage. And if you ever do start praying with your self-justifying attitude, it will be the putrid kind of self-righteous prayer that Hell hallows. Go for it! Anyway, enough to do with prayer. I dare not indulge you on the power of this nuke. It has left me with serious war scars from the heavenly host. If you must pray, I will be sure to allow it as long as it has you at the centre focus and not the Maker in that heavenly heretical humility. The idea of you humbling yourself and taking responsibility for your struggle makes me sick, fool. You hear that? Sick to the stomach. Inasmuch as I like to see you down, I can’t handle this willful self-abasement of admitting fault. It makes you focus on the Maker and I can’t have that. You are my fool. You hear that? MY FOOL! If you want to abase yourself, I’ve got the right antidote for you. Let’s just take the enthusiasm off your self-righteous justification. Let’s turn it into self-pity. It looks like humility but it still has yourself at the center of focus. A form of godliness that lacks the power. This pride thing is flexible, fool. But that’s for me to know and for you to never find out, filthy scum. Confession is for those religitards that are so weak that they need help from their Creator. While it’s difficult to get my hands on them, I can assure you I will never let go of you. My hands are wrung so perfectly around your pathetic famished soul, the idea of confession will always scare you with thoughts of judgement and shame. I’ve figured you, fool. I’ve figured you good! And don’t think I’m leaving your job out of this. I hope to destroy your career with this addiction. I have a number of strategies. I may execute this at the height of your woman’s frustration with your relationship. Your woman is not daft as you think. She knows your web browsers are always cleared and your money is frequently disappearing. She already suspects what’s going on. Double tragedy gives me utter pleasure. Your demise is my satisfaction, fool. Or maybe…maybe…maybe I shan’t ruin your job. Maybe I will let you have a successful career so that you think it compensates for your moral failure. Yes, yes, that’s better, don’t you think? Distract your attention from your addiction with a salary increase, a bonus or even an employee of the year award. Spick and span on the outside but rotting on the inside. Oh how they will utter glorious lies at your funeral! He was a good man! He loved God! He must be in a good place! Hahaha! Oh, I’m a genius!
By the way, I hear that your friend Melvin got free from one of my traps. It’s a pity because he was this close to cheating on his wife. And by “this close” I mean today was the day! Wretched fool escaped my cage. But I will assign a new demon to him to assess his short-lived victory. It will be hard since he converted to the light when he got born again. But it’s no biggie. If I couldn’t stop him from becoming a genuine Christian, I can work to make him an ineffective believer. Always doubting his salvation and keeping him in infancy with politically correct theology. Do you fancy to know how he became my toy before all this? You see we study our patients long and hard before we execute. We know their every move. So with miserable Melvin, we started him off at these innocent massage parlours. But his heart was already deceitful and desperately wicked. He fooled himself that he was going to ease his muscles. But we knew the truth. The lustful happy ending he received on one massage session triggered our official entry. We perched on him a masturbating spirit. He didn’t see it coming. And just like you, fool, he was powerless against the slightest sexual titillation. Even the mannequins were stumbling blocks! Can you believe it? The mannequins! He masturbated at every opportune moment. Even during toilet breaks in those work conferences, he indulged in hedonistic self-pleasure. Ha! Self-control is not for fickle-minded fools. That’s why I had to variate his lustful investments. He proceeded to establish inappropriate relationships with his workmates. One of those new colleagues alerted HR. But thankfully he wasn’t fired. We directed his focus from real women to the naked virtual ones on Google. But the genesis of his struggle did not begin with these obviously sinful happy ending body massages. They began with his friends. They were not sinful friends per se but they were just the right tools I needed. You know, the passive friends who don’t encourage you to solicit a call girl but neither do they push you towards righteousness. Perfect allies of Hades! You see, fool, I don’t need to use evil tools to bring you down. I can merely use good things that are not necessarily Godly things. Good and seemingly harmless entertainment with few seconds of nudity. Good and harmless music with just a tinge of sensuality. And since Melvin believed the lie that he was a good person, he was ripe for my plucking. It was going so well; it’s a pity he didn’t cheat on his wife. It would have been a steamy affair with poor Nancy. She was the only work colleague that entertained his lustful flirtations. She was so distressed by her husband’s alcoholism (thanks to our other competent substance addiction department), she just wanted a man to find her beautiful. Melvin and Nancy would have had apocalyptic passion, I promise you. Perhaps three months long. Two weeks brief at best, but steamy all the same. If he held on I would have delivered him three months of his pathetic not-near version of heaven. And if he was willing to stop going to that Christian fellowship, I would have made it a year with Nancy. Our contracts can even stretch to two years of secrecy and carnal happiness if you promise to try out new perversions. But that disgusting fellowship ruined it all! That stinking band of brothers encouraged him to confess his struggle and cut links with curvaceous Nancy! Yuck! My lustful demons couldn’t event work during the damn Bible Study meetings. The Maker himself was in their presence as they convened and opened those blasted Bibles. His consistency with that fellowship and his humility to accept help got him out of my cage. God’s kindness then led him to horrid repentance. But we won’t make that mistake with you. You are my fool. I always upgrade my strategy with you quiet ones. That’s why this struggle will be older than your own kids. If I fancy, I may introduce one of them to it.
On a happier note, I’m glad that you stopped dreaming about a happy marriage and godly offspring because that is never going to happen. Not on my watch. I will make sure of that. This struggle is customized to steal your passion, kill your dreams and destroy your life. It’s the job description our hellish high father has assigned us. Steal, kill and destroy. I’m also glad that you’ve given up on the hope of a good relationship with your Maker. It’s only logical. He is too boring, uptight and full or rules. Well, we’ll show him whose in charge of this planet. It’s too bad I couldn’t get you to disbelieve in his existence. But at least I can get you to disbelieve in his power and goodness. The power of that bloody cross (oh how we could turn that day around) will never be available for you. I will make sure of that. You will never discover how much he loves you and forgives you. Such dreadful tools against addictions, grace and mercy are. But we often allow addicts to hear them as long as they are not balanced healthily with the message of the Maker’s wrath. Without wrath, grace and mercy lose meaning and power. Power to deliver fools like you. And if you do experience this power, I will be sure to convince you to trust in your effort and not his finished work on that Jewish hill. Depend on those silly resolutions on your strength without his power. I’m glad your local church has adopted such New Age teaching that avoids those Christian fundamental truths because they are offensive or not seeker-friendly enough. Stick in that “church” and you’ll do just fine.
Anyway, I have to go now. My shift for the day is over. I will await for you to wake up tomorrow to repeat this beautiful cycle of slavery. But don’t miss me too much, fool. I’ll invade your dreams with a few shameful lustful fantasies and fearful visions. I can’t sleep, you know. Hellish high father won’t allow it or I may find myself in the abyss. So your night times must be restless with demonic torture for making me lose my rest.
This is a work of fiction used to pass real theological truths. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.