These Hawks knew all too well how they would tempt the Godhed ‘til “King-dumb Cum,” these sassiest of sirens to seize the Soul of whom they sought by singing to him sweet songs of seduction, aspiring to sway the susceptible Spirit of their subject into suggestive submission, their sick, slutty selves soon succumbing to the sly, sacred sex they would so certainly savor serving to the symptoms of sin while seeking to send signs to their psyches that it would be their special skills that would save all their sisters, and see to their survival. -MIKE EYE
The Aqueous Transmission by MIKE EYE (email@example.com / mike33eye.wordpress.com) is an incredibly exciting tale of dark lore that explores the idea of what planet Earth would be like if it had […]
What’s in a name? Before the new millennium, I never thought much about the power of names. I hadn’t any idea that there could be so much extra baggage metaphysically attached to someone’s name. Just like how now-a-days, you can embed the track name, number, and genre in one MP3 song file, unnoticeable attachments are quantumly combined with the actual phonetics, pronunciation, and association of the names of people, places, and even things….
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Mother Magdalena shot her Head skyward to behold the new Full Moon revisited: it was burning Blood-Red with an hallucinogenic hazy melting fuzz blistering around its seamless circumference.
When she brought her Head back down to look beneath her, the Mother saw her most precious Mandorla hanging from her umbilical cord that remained attached to the placenta that was still stuck inside her uterus. A steady stream of blood from the Mother’s vagina was splashing into the messy mix, dousing the dangling Mandorla at the end of the spirally gut-like tube of intimate linkage, putting on a most horrifying bloody show dimly lit by the new brooding dark scarlet Lunar phantasm of stellar Fucked-Earth symmetry.
The faint, fiendish luster of the new blood-red Full Moon, subtly reflecting off the mystical pond, was shining the eeriest tone of macabre repugnance upon this vile horror-show nightmare image of the gory Mandorla, who swung gently in stony silence from the potent, sick fruit that remained lodged inside the deplorable Mother Magdalena.
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#3. It’s finally time for the Last Godhed’s Conscious Mind to Astral Projekt his Subtle Sirian Soul Synced to his Human Body Out to the Sacred Seduction with Safety and Seclusion from within his Secret Southpole Homeland
All the way from his Immortal South Pole Homeland, the super-heady Al Rodnam, via a complex multidimensional astral projection, helps make the brutal Sacred Seduction of his Shadow’s Sacrifice more bearable for his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin, in order to ensure the proper time, place, manner, and fulfilment of the Conception of Mandorla. -MIKE EYE
☆ 36. It’s Finally Time For The Last Godhed’s Conscious Mind To Astral Projekt His Subtle Sirian Soul Synced To His Human Body Out To The Sacred Seduction With Safety And Seclusion From Within His Secret Southpole Homeland
Immersing himself with Fletcher Munsin Intimately, and with every fragment of everything that was occurring at the Biodome of Andromeda, the great, most heedful, mindful mystic continued to maintain his High Concentration on it all, keeping his sharply developed Wise Mind focused fully and simultaneously upon three things: the experience, as his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin, of the Act being committed to him by Mother Magdalena; that was one. The wellbeing of his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin; that was two. And the third thing was to maintain the upkeep of a thoroughly Lucid Vision of the High-density intricacies of the complex sound and light patterns of the particular Mandala he had brought forth as Light Symbol Codes to aid his breaths to make the other two connections possible.
…Fixed in an endless reverie, a blank expression on her face, Magdalena’s Ajna chakra had become fully stimulated, and blood now gushed outward from the gash in her forehead, bursting through the bandaging, squirting all over the inside of her helmet’s transparent dome, completely obstructing her view with a crimson flush. Proving that she could not be disconnected in any way from the almighty nexus now communicating with her, the triple optics of the Mother then pierced through the ruby veil of her helmet’s dome with activated brainwaves of eternal intent, physically parting the obstructing splattered blood outward from three small, perfectly rounded areas of the blood-soaked dome around her Head, correlating to her three beams of vision…
“Assuming the contour of a fully illuminated Metatron’s Cube, the glowing orb of light comprising the thirteen Wicked women set celestial sail, gathering together the willpower to try traveling along […]
MORE AND MORE READERS OF EXCITING STORIES EVERYWHERE ARE LEARNING ABOUT VISIONARY FICTION. Because of our current day and age, a whole boat-load of wondrously adventurous individuals who grew up reading […]
“Assuming the contour of a fully illuminated Metatron’s Cube, the glowing orb of light comprising the thirteen Wicked women set celestial sail, gathering together the willpower to try traveling along the mangled psychelectromagnetic waves of a dying Earth. But with this New Light, this Higher Consciousness activation triggered by the deliverance of noble Nammu of Europa, the glowing orb-cube was able to traverse swiftly and easily over the spread of geological expanse like never before as it envisioned its own presence beyond the conditioned singular stance of the more simplified separate Sister, and so coming to catch a Hallowed Vision of the near future…”