The nourishment of the illegals is at hand, the Karen Read trial proves it, you can hand feed the test feed of media bits and let it hang, you can dance as if it matters, you can hang your jaw over the words for your own purposes and pretend it’s for Passover and remain invisible? What difference does it make?

The ravishing of the system is at stake, the white faces of the defendants are at hand, the Donald Trump trial challenges it, you can hand test the offspring for proof of the ravening and the lusting, what of it? What of it with the great grey lull of power gnarling over it all? 

You can challenge it, is all. You can imagine it all in power, all invited to lust within, all incited to yearn with invertebrate longing of grand glow and globs of deep glow.  It won’t matter at all. It won’t and it can’t. The sun will shine, the rocks will glow.  You’ll be fine, or you will die. Thank Jesus for that one. Thank someone, for Chrissakes.