The Tai Recipe for Integration into the Planetary

All aboard the mess train, the Allen Trackington participation is inevitable, the door of Life will be opened and the boot of Prometheus will drive the message directly to the bottom of the buttocks. Ah, perhaps the dig man will see the Chinese temporal temple in Nepal when he takes a 30 degree inverse degree. One is a word, but a drop of water that makes the rain that falls from the super cortex outer fractal. Zoom, oh la la. The fire is created from ice the Alien Masters tell us, they are our friends, they feed from the prana gently and bring us Lux from the heavens, the stars are not all Silver. Tzaddi is not 17 they say as well, perhaps the trap isn't really a trap, every vagina is infinite and the energy of the yama is but maya in the mental trappings of the moisture that drips down the mouth tube connected to the Moon. They feed me. I am thankful and I allow them to use my hands in order to laugh at myself and feel once again, the flame of the torch has once again touched my heart and now the blade that directs the freedom penetrates from the left side of the extension of Chokmah down my back and to the pengina that exists above my butt crack. Who knows what they mean when the darkness appears to be crawling, the blood, the skeleton, the worms eating my flesh, the chainsaw cutting through my throat. The sexual union with the pig meat generates the bacon of Satan which he eats with the technology generated from the military-industrial complex. The pubic schooling that we recieve in our dreams before we're ready generates a world of oversex'd hyperperverts that I love more than the mirror image of the mirror image of 5 to the 3rd degree. It is the spiders that bite and infect me with their fear, they make me jump like the white shirts and sushi munchers. I am no better than a kitty-dog that hath no way of eating itself besides through the extension of light from the inner Nuit.