right now, the liberal left is like thralls enslaved by a cabal of evil sorcerers. theyre shriveled, weak, pathetic, wailing things, in their billions; they do their masters bidding, and are rewarded for it with scraps from their table and contempt. the elites ridicule them, and threaten each other with the horrific “enthralling beam!” which turns one of them into one of them. Egad! no fate is more terrifying for an elite than becoming a thrall himself.

now these thralls, armless, gaping mouths, squiggling around in the mud outside the glowing magical palaces of their masters, they are infinite beings. they just don’t know it. they’ve been enchanted, tricked, manipulated, tortured, robbed, sucked dry, and cast out, the husk of a human to join the slave-sea ruled by the elite.

this is a classic image. it is such a true image as well. the third chakra inside of an animal is about power: and chakras are infinite whirlpools of energy, they constantly swirl in, hungrily; they need more, and more, forever. so the sorcerer is seduced by the chakra of power, and its intoxicating feeling, feeling like god the creator, god the destroyer, and so their power corrupts them into infinitely hungry, selfish things.

now, they seem glamorous, the elite, but they are horrible, twisted, mutilated human beings, for they have lost the love-center in their lives. love, and their heart, are no longer primary; power is now primary. the truly elite, the power-hungry, no longer feel love for anything. not themselves, not their own family, not even the power itself. because power, unfortunately for them, is completely empty. power is a means, not an end, and the ultra-elite that so many people envy, are the ones who suffer the most, between the fangs of the lover/vampire power #herself. he might never escape; it might be a thousands before he even thinks of escape.

fortunately, their slaves have not turned their backs on their hearts like that. honestly, i don’t know if the truly evil can be helped by man; even the most arching, scintillating, stain-glass masterpieces that make one’s soul soar with god unto the nine heavens is seen with cold, dead eyes; the elite has chosen to imprison his soul, writhing in darkness within the bloodsoaked cage hanging where the heart once hung. that is not a soul i can save.

but the thralls are so close to freedom! they really are! now, they believe that they are victims, that the world is unfair, someone has oppressed them, made life hard, and unfair. everyone in the world is a dirty bitch enemy, and no one can be trusted. except, the #master, of course. the great irony is, its that EXACT #master that was all the horrible things they were told their enemies were! the #master is the enemy of the thralls.

not us! like all the killer hippie girls in the sands are like hey thrall cutie, its cool you drool and you dont have arms, you only need legs to surf! (and so they go so classic california down and through their sun-colored blond hair rippling my dreams~

the #master is the enemy. he has told you that the world outside of him is him. hes like an upside-down version of god; god is the circle around you, that goes on forever in every direction, offering absolute freedom and infinite space. the #master is the circle all around you, that goes nowhere, and promises you nothing. your entire existence reduced to a soft drink; he sticks his straw in, and drinks you, and drinks you.

such is the ever-present nature of evil man. evil man is a human being who has been conquered by his desire for power. they exist today, in full REGALIA, but they have always existed. some say, they will always exist. i don’t know about that; I think that shit might be up to you and me! perhaps the potential for man to be evil will never be quenched, but i would never ask that anyway. evil cannot hurt the world; its a reverse-blade, a paradox knife, the wielder is the one who bleeds. and souls must always be given their freedom when possible, even an evil soul.

so im pretty drunk, but, i believe in our world. there is nothing to be afraid of, because reality is a dream of god, and you are god. the most terrible dream ultimately does nothing to you, especially if you are a mermaid constellation, floating on the cosmic ocean, a smile on your lips, rolling the time and spacepearls around in your seven-fingered hands. what do you care?