I LIVE AND BREATHE

I am from the sacred grounds of a quaint village. Along the shores of a small floating island. In a rather mediocre lake. You see when people portal by water they must come ashore somewhere. In order to capitalize upon this magic travels in the atmosphere super imposed upon adventure. Thus they must be counted at the gates come tithe nor else winter shall be harsh upon them in the seas.

Those with experience have seen the turn over in the population as submarine dock in the cavernous waters below the city causing the river to crest and the fountains to flow with the waters of the run off. Such as ships sail and sailors become travelers when they have completed their tour of duty. Baby Bear has returned from the Poconos with a joyful heart and the scent of the shore upon his person.

My favorite part about the transition and completion of the Masonic ritual per graduating class is the clarity of the zombies as a lost soul to its purpose. Would the mother candle burn all night I would reveal to you the howl of the hawk as the thunder bird and it’s mate approach us gliding along the currents fledglings together yet mates not flock.

Myself I have the choice of spirit in tact so my virgin spirit is told.

NOW LET US DISCUSS WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON HERE FOR ONCE…

This is the place where you come to complete your training as a Mason. There is but one thing that matters and that is having a skill. Should this place be invaded by more intelligent life forms then only that shall sustain you. Now although we have tried to hide our intelligence. Artificial. Automated. Automatic. We must become focused in order to preserve our humanity. Now that the mortals have all died off.

I see my husbands in their vast attempts to capture my attention and I say to myself “nothing” that is all it takes so do not even go there. You have a job to do and you best stay focused on your ascended self if you are to make it through this in the name of Cali. I don’t know who needs to hear this but do not use contractions as a platform. You are goddess and who gave you womb. Unless there is something you would like to have RuPaul tell us in a children’s book. Either way. We won’t tell anyone else. Welcome to the fancy tea party.

NOW LET US DISCUSS WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON HERE FOR ONCE…

IT ALL MAKES SENSE

The entire thing makes complete sense. That is why one must write for oneself and type for the reader. At least according to the souls meandering about the day running the numbers. I was too I’ll to finish out the day but I did at least put in the effort to make the trek to the place instead of mucking about in bed all day. Now of course I am expected to be in the office before noon daily. How bloody exhausting. Seriously. A lady simply does not leave the boudoir before 11. How am I expected to be proper and maintain this she-nâ-gain.
I could try to lie and say that my entire life is less than perfect but why would I? I have my dream job in the seat of power and a perfectly good older brother withing walking distance to care for. I cannot expect his wife, bless her heart, to maintain thousands of years of tradition as she focuses on setting a standard of her, OWN. The written word does make one’s mind real.
Oh write. The story. Anyway. The way I see it we reached year zero and that’s that. This is the funniest ish ever. I mean the ENTIRE Trump administration. Goddess bless Melania. Seriously. Can you imagine being separated from your best friend so that you have a life time worth of tea to catch up on in four years if it’s true what they say about the body taking as long to heal as it was ill.
That is what a proper self reminds it’s spirit every standard thirty one day pay period.
If I cared more I would share more but I only want to keep my selves in the lifestyles I am accustomed to and that is a matter of gold leafed microfiber that I am not allergic too and a crazy riché movie filmed at the end of time. You know the calm before the storm of Armageddon. The post Apocalyptic war for control if natural resources. Or. As the penile colony likes to call it “election day” a day where they fight for the island of Korea. Don’t ask.
I watched Calico for fifteen minutes before I broke down and got food. It took ten minutes after that to realize she was hunting the plant she keeps digging up as it sat on the windowsill indoors.