Journal Entry from July 5 2011

Decommission the orgasmic unfolding of the giant mists of Saturn, devolving as they are into a million twisting blips upon the radar of our holiest mount. Graciously we can say grace and pray twice, but never against the will of the quaintest faint paint we position upon the saint. Hide me from the petulance of the gravitating generations. Entrenched among barbarisms of skin toasting and the like we may like to bike up the hills of the blessed organism that slumbers. His wretched face betrays disgrace of some fashioned place that did not displace its masters for too long. They eventually rejoiced to recollect of the ancient times of dullness drifting upon the waves of numerosity. Cardinal origins of the gravest kings that brought our sins to the surfaces of our chins. Bequeath us with the graves from within which to ensnare our raving blades in a pit of the industrial strength. This vision did not instruct it to self-destruct but the gorgeous flames that swept across the villages. Switching hermitage to pillage more innocents is the sore wound we dress to impress. Golgi apparatuses pile us up against the wall and enslave our livers against the will of the bacterial sentiments that propel us to the heretics. Ticks came flippingly down the elephant chute upon which to throw away our 10-ton gorilla burdens. I am carrying rings upon rings of cast iron gold bullion that weigh down tortuously upon the sallow orifices from whence came thrice a quite nice artifice. Beggingly I ascend the mountaintop in hopes of galvanizing a moment’s worth of heartiness to bestow tremendous force upon the forge of the almighty. The grievers shall learn to believe and save their testimonials for the laws of men and women, the race of confused insapient beings. Sentinels those automatons have more sentience than the meekest mayfly, descending daily from her throne erected nightly upon the pods of Yellowstone. Grace fill me with the space to endure the days and nights thy divine will hath ordained for me. And enlarge my time to entwine me with the rays of cathartic tears that flow so vigorously from among our treetops of the elders. A wicker basket may hold a moment’s worth of torment by keeping its top sky seeking, but the moment the attraction of the earth is given berth, a grave and dire birth is begun from which none have escaped. Seal me to the consciousness of this pain that I may reign over the wilderness of this brain, and train the untamed, and finally abolish these flames. 

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