‘Nothing more artistic than to love people’ -Vincent VanGO!

Look, toots. Most peepow want toasty love in this cold society. I certainly do. Thus, I lurrrrrve giving ideas to help further yore decision to be as One in the bleakness of space. I cannot live without /d’tres amour\ in the Other Time: what loving God doesn’t want human beings to populate the stars? sHe derives great pleasure from that; Heavenly drugs, too. They’re called ‘uppers’. Believe me, we’ll get such a high:

‘dream your dreams about what YOU want to do in Heaven; dare to ask to the impossible and all the gifts YOU have ever wanted from Me. Expect Me to hear YOU and fulfill your every desire...’

Who said that?? One and Only Trinity. What’s Яong witchoo, America?? J’eva hear of the word ‘mortal’? Even has a video- the stunning beach!! (‘accept God’/sixth post).

And I lurrrrrrrve to procreate - what I’m made for apparently. I’m fairly good at it, too. I’ll show you soon if you decide to board the CherryPi, ya kooky, crazzy girly you Q: why don’t I wanna any men? A: think about it. Y’donta gotta; I’ll stop by yore room to VitSee. How can you explore the universe without our zygote? How lifeless and cold.

yeah? y’wanna peace of Me?? -jesus

I’m so like 7th Heaven: I’m so not P/R! HeeHee I’m an impossible incoherent. I’m a juvenile-lip-service. I’m a secret-sauce-paradox, Pleasure-Beyond-Measure, ultra-yummmy-reality-excitotoxin-addiction, groovalishous-fruit-salad. Delve with me, Miss Deeds. Delve into eternity.

ultra🆇cited. I’m basically a ‘recruitment company’ for interstellar travel amongst the stars, Miss Magnificent Mademoiselle. D’joo know I gotta lotta Secret Universe to be populated by us which is 111 extra-miles-circumference justo fulfill your desires? If youNeye decide 2B1 for the length and breadth of eternity, what you’ll receive is beyond exponential: the 3rd thro 7th dimension (or higher) which is difficult for many astrophysicists to wrap their minds around, we’ll getta lotta free-time to YAY! raaaastle! aboard my ship (all girls are gorgeous in my eyes because they have three things men don’t - like the Trinity). SO! MAKE! HEAVEN! cutie pie: I’ll take you out to some fabulous KFC beyond the stars. Believe me, you’ll see stars.

This huge-cosmic-stadium, miss universe, covering trillionplex-ish of light years? Pretty vast. Now, picture the Eagle’s football field: 1x1 yard/our minute galaxy. When we’re done withat? Think of the many other universes which Almighty God has mass produced for yooNeye. Wanna explore those, too? We have forever, girls, not just ‘gotta-be-home-by-ten-thing’ Saturday; like the ‘drive-in-flik’ rolls the credits, this Never Ends. 

Upstairs, girls, if you can answer who sed, ‘Nice shootin’, kid! Don’t get cocky!!’ and what flick (HINT: ‘Laugh-it-up, fuzzball’), you'll have your place aboard my starship at the ᴙong way cafe. Wanna summora this full-size, full-service, full-length-eternal-fantasy-amidst-the-starry-sky??

Not many find the key2unlocking the priceless treasures which await; you’ll soon discover how large the universe is: not very big if cannot hold my love. Wanna summoe! Gonna git summoe!! *better add this:*

📎

Upstairs, not here (mortal sin to sleep with a person you aren’t married to), I’m gonna influence her, kneading her, cuddling me. I totally want that; I totally want 2B1 in XTC. Not only is that possible, yet even more! more! more! is the eternity of passion, Miss Universe.

Here’s one scenario:

Amor Vincit Omnia (Latin: love conquers all)

In my Mötley-Fëw-outta-the-orthodox-boxxaroxx-7th-Heaven, e.very.thing is not only possible, but diss! funk! tional! Utterly yummy in my dreams: riding to a hostel Upstairs; many, many, maиy girly models (even you, Wonder Woman, ya mesmerizing, captivating, alluring babe you), swimming or sunbathing or snooozin or ‘all the cute🅫 who ηflǝw I was comin’ impossible to kiss/cuddle them all at once Egad, man!! What do I do?? I call down the Miny☆Mee! sHe’ll create maaany of those blatant, old-fashioned-palindromes as possible. Ain’t that cool shoes? Here’s another explosive, depth-charge-desire for all those warm, wild, wonderful girls who bypass this passing earth:

I mountain bike several-hundred-miles to a studio high in the mountains where seven young women, all gorgeous knockouts, all highly trained, professional painters are living presently;

Those adorable, young things paint moi, aussi on a cowch with a Polo, a tie and a hint of aftershave, taking a few hours, throwing out, re-focusing, starting over.

To love and to serve with joy every delicious, irresistable, intoxicating, wild-fire-female all at once, in every corner of the universe, would be quite physically impossible... so here's whot I did to envelop the elaborate, the endless, daunting expression of the extraordinary:

I whisper to them after they're done,
'Wanna catalyze the insane now?'

They just smile at me, swiftly realizing.

'How many do you have?' pointing at the first, tall, thin, gorgeous girly in influencial braids.

'About fiveish.'

She giggled,

perceiving the

perceptable.

'Then, take fiveish and go, populate the universe,' as I jumped-off the canvas into her most loving arms. 'The refuse, dear,' pointing with priceless, primordial passion.

Though I dont seem like it sometimes,

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