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Description
The Children of Muke are upon you. Intimately in tune, with their chakra psyches. Quantum valid after all.

Born from the mucus, that lubes the chakra HUD's, charged with Tourette's Syndrome 'bleak' impediments and perfectly inconsolable, autistic harmonics. Blessed lunatic viscosity, starving the chakras mad. So much gunk, in pineal eyes. Charged with the paranormal ether, of Earth. Sinus-digging succubi burrow deep, whereas trash-talking boogers are found seeking the lowest membrane levels.

Centered webhead insight, explores each chakra nook and cranny, backstopped by real stations in life. Processing through high-school faculties, May-hap a cut above. Fanatical foursome guest appearances, disappointing on all bosom fronts. Pig party do-gooders getting poached, by pity party go-getters, up for pressing the one bread one body luck, after all. Mukie the only starved, do-gooder comfort.

Knowing her secret magic, will someday be vindicated, in totality. Knowing what the others don't know. Having seen what no one else saw, strolling the sunken pantheons, while being John Malkovich.

Draculaura at the center, of the King's Precursor Republic mission. Utterly fast friends with Dr. Prejudice, a Celestial that resurrected in the Catacomb Labyrinth. Sharing further, that he was expected. on the other side, of the next mountain.

Deep in the fevered abyss of the beautiful mind winks, erotic hallucination blinks and Herbie Goes Bananas rinks. As well as the confidence shaking Dumbo sighting, too surreal to report.

Bodies buried like the ones supporting our Easter Island treasure, in fine paranormal spirit.

DiS crocodile seeing no reason, not to function higher, has gone ahead, on skinny audible and whipped an ambrosia narrative, backstopped by quantum-real stations and privileges, in hoaxed lives. Hand sown, with incubus & succubus. A little something packed for ants mantoosplaining 'there's no such thing as truth serum'. Lo' steamrolling over booger incest lovers in time, saves tree huggers in their prime. So Magic #3 flattened.

Parking a conspicuously absent Hague appearance, on the Kamar-Taj Temple. Asking who the monastic, big fucking hero doghouse, thinks it's looking at? With their profiling 'community' frowns, not meant for Title VII standards, raining on prince of heaven parades, with Title VII standards.

And merited by the floating candle, in the window - a socialist church. For Mukie. Who I Love. Organic Tapestry Thread, Charitable & Ornamental funding, in keeping with community welfare needs and neighborhood beautification projects, proceeding on parishioner investment budgets, Concierge Office agency and tither gossamer.

For better punishment and enslavement horizons.

Description
The Children of Muke are upon you. Intimately in tune, with their chakra psyches. Quantum valid after all.

Born from the mucus, that lubes the chakra HUD's, charged with Tourette's Syndrome 'bleak' impediments and perfectly inconsolable, autistic harmonics. Blessed lunatic viscosity, starving the chakras mad. So much gunk, in pineal eyes. Charged with the paranormal ether, of Earth. Sinus-digging succubi burrow deep, whereas trash-talking boogers are found seeking the lowest membrane levels.

Centered webhead insight, explores each chakra nook and cranny, backstopped by real stations in life. Processing through high-school faculties, May-hap a cut above. Fanatical foursome guest appearances, disappointing on all bosom fronts. Pig party do-gooders getting poached, by pity party go-getters, up for pressing the one bread one body luck, after all. Mukie the only starved, do-gooder comfort.

Knowing her secret magic, will someday be vindicated, in totality. Knowing what the others don't know. Having seen what no one else saw, strolling the sunken pantheons, while being John Malkovich.

Draculaura at the center, of the King's Precursor Republic mission. Utterly fast friends with Dr. Prejudice, a Celestial that resurrected in the Catacomb Labyrinth. Sharing further, that he was expected. on the other side, of the next mountain.

Deep in the fevered abyss of the beautiful mind winks, erotic hallucination blinks and Herbie Goes Bananas rinks. As well as the confidence shaking Dumbo sighting, too surreal to report.

Bodies buried like the ones supporting our Easter Island treasure, in fine paranormal spirit.

DiS crocodile seeing no reason, not to function higher, has gone ahead, on skinny audible and whipped an ambrosia narrative, backstopped by quantum-real stations and privileges, in hoaxed lives. Hand sown, with incubus & succubus. A little something packed for ants mantoosplaining 'there's no such thing as truth serum'. Lo' steamrolling over booger incest lovers in time, saves tree huggers in their prime. So Magic #3 flattened.

Parking a conspicuously absent Hague appearance, on the Kamar-Taj Temple. Asking who the monastic, big fucking hero doghouse, thinks it's looking at? With their profiling 'community' frowns, not meant for Title VII standards, raining on prince of heaven parades, with Title VII standards.

And merited by the floating candle, in the window - a socialist church. For Mukie. Who I Love. Organic Tapestry Thread, Charitable & Ornamental funding, in keeping with community welfare needs and neighborhood beautification projects, proceeding on parishioner investment budgets, Concierge Office agency and tither gossamer.

For better punishment and enslavement horizons.