Shortest Path

Look at how unique we all are. What a beautiful blizzard is blowing up. So many snowflakes, each a touch different. The glam is absurd when you know the Truth. Oneness keeps dipping in and out, on and off our radar It's a matter of waves of delusion. Some waves crash harder, some hold more weight.

I have always felt different. A little odd. They told me I was special. Gifted even. Every breath is a gift from God, they said. They capitalize the 'G' to set 'God' apart from 'god'.

A compact dog licks his every part at my one o'clock at whatever time it is. They didn't fix him. He wasn't broken. I agree. He is horny though, and learning to subtly self-fellatiate as feigned canine-meditation. He licks and edges and keeps a clean shop. How can it be more appropriate to act openly than talk openly?

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Shortest Path