hands on mister. people want to touch him. he wants to be touched. this equilibrium, this, isn't this bliss heaven?
i was thinking about hell earlier, and trump and his cohort of mass murderers and robber barons, thinking i don't believe in hell after this, but hell here is certain, and there are a loose chaos of devils running it, and i guess maybe devils don't burn like everything and body else, but the reason folks want to believe in hell is so they can picture motherfuckers like trump writhing in a tower of fire of their own making, like they made here on earth. i understand the need of hell. but that's a momentary relief in the brain, to see the mighty fall, while the truth is most of us fall in their wake, since the destroyers are so omnipotent and we have no redress, and we'd have to have some supernatural agency to counteract this corporate brand of evil. yet it may be said heaven is really real too, with golden sun and hands caressing golden fur, and twinkling eyes, among other sunlit things, things that come to pass, and light beings that come when you call.