The house sky (sometimes referred to as a ceiling) set tonight's gotcha while holding on for the hope of falling back asleep. The circle of life (sometimes referred to as a testicle) birthed the notion that our planet is a ball in the universe. That means my 'nad is graced with universe-like components like harmonic convergence or continental drift. No wonder almost 80 years of exploratory endeavors still rank the Big O as life's ultimate triumph.

Now that we've got that notion out there, I woke up therefore I vanquished all despair. It's a hard knock life, accordingly if you don't eat your young you can't have any chance of evolvement. If that's what you think in life's final quarter, glad you're maskless. The illusionary mating rituals somehow reign sufficiently to match up with senior realities resulting in no added anxiety. So this treatise skips the gonadal-analogies that centers on all fantasies as dwelling within the balls and they are comparable to what the planet experiences universally. No, thank yous aren't called for here nor no shame felt for putting these thoughts into words. I LOVE life, love and most of all H E R ! !