Your thought is lodged in the mouth of a beaver trying desperately to escape but its buckteeth have you trapped. I can hear you whimper loudly enough to be heard clearly across the dam that could be called the Damned that could be called Oakleigh.
How it or you or even perhaps we got stuck there is a mystery not worth investigating this time because surely you’ll escape soon and everything will appear as a rose unfolding towards the sun.
And, yes, sexual energy come innuendo could free the mind.
There’s just no conclusive research to confirm this fact and as far as grandiose statements go that there is a pearler. That is, if I may say so without the fear of arrogant retribution settling on my shoulders and karma causing a fuss.
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