Superman in his childhood and adulthood brought up plenty of
time his question of existence, and why does he do what he does.
His father was telling him that it’s for the well being of a human kind,
and for the improvement of the subliminal crime. Often he was sitting
naked on the cold bathroom floor, thinking about his demons and his
unbelievable strength. No one was giving him enough credits for his
deeds, no one was ever kissed him beyond his cheek. But then at
some point, after the big Parisian burglary, in his life a big change
happened. Out from nowhere. Some teen girls opened up toward him,
mentally and physically, they treated him very well. His life gained
a new meaning from that point, as the slippery grip has been dipped
really deep, water came on his mouth. Silent whispers of erotic endeavor.
His cape became stained and sticky again. Not to mention Lois Lane’s
cheeks. She did wonders for him. There is always a purpose, always a
price, a price which is worth paying. Do art, do art as much as you
can, cause sometimes that’s the only reasonable thing to do.
Be brave and bold. Follow that red gory meaty muscled thing
that beats beyond your ribs, capture firmly in your heroic chest.
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