Come to My Silioquey

Finding my feet today seems a bit predestined. I tried to pretend, but now I know that the answer is always no. Funny funny, acceptance not for you. Oh well, soon gravity won't be an accepted theory any longer either. My hips in me finds the rock to become meteor. They fall and sail through the atmosphere making the ground the sky. All lie and a reversal is the mean in between. Science is a subject as long as gravity exists. Without a knowledge of the longing of the ground to be paralleled by the stars through the atmosphere, plans change rapidly, and all construction ceases. Maybe this silioquey has lengthened sentences, but not sentiment. What is important? Nuclear capability? Obviously not after yesterday eve on Peavy. I guess heaven just seems so far away. The laughter of Russia at my basic needs shows the capsizing of my grandfather's huge row boat into the frigid Sept. water. This may all seem a bit obtuse, but my head is in a place where I do not have to acknowledge the trick of attractibility that is the same again and again. I just back away as THE ARCHANGEL JEREMIAL handle things with the hardened lines of his inner hand.