My dear Dante, so here I am again< sorry and aware.
Gods as ideas are being kept alive in the human mind, so are u kept awake.
Adored by scholars, bored by going schoolers.
Anyhow back I am to diss u with the number nine, which is the code to life, believed and praised by Jodorowski or constructed on by Khodorkovsky.

This life treated so trivially and at the same time, cosmogonal known for a one-shot though lived as forever and ever fairytale with compensation in the hereafter, like still having the table of Esmerald and Hermegisto at our disposition. Losing and excusing in depressions where keys are ours to grab and use, abuse is easier. The hide and seek of the so-called adult.

Denying the magical realism that forms our world, embracing yet the chewed industrial nonsense propaganda seeking fame and fortune not being drenched by comprehension that it is a plata or plomo reality.
Allah or oil, Jesus or jewels, I mean Dante, in the end, aren’t Santa and
God not but cousins…

The intrinsic value of life gone underground and nothing but surfing the surface the super facial of nowadays beauty beating the drums of disharmony. The incoherent appraise of the strength of balls where they are not but the weakest part of the anatomy, slim and hungry under different skies and circumstances.

So u see dear Dante, the worship u knew has wavered and shifted from fearing into service famous gorgeous gaffers, another industry but all the same… now all the ignorance aside, the wonderment has not been lost and therefore before breaking branches of possible futures are imperative to avoid but to lead and lighten up.

Dear Dante, u led the way through your personal hell and knew verbally to map and manoeuvre out of the sewer so what is your opinion about my vision telling the truth about our omnipotence and omniscience when fully employed and committed to our condition of half gods…for our homage is wine not blood.

How to convince, gain and persuade adepts and acolytes to the equation for continuity of our race on our mother earth flat or round, the perception is not of matter as is the love for the alma mater and love needs no publicity.

Be that is at maybe, love has an all-round and subjective definition so wheeze and wiggle components of the hustle harder one day at a time for us known as Hobgoblins or rather women of the Lysistrata to encounter the way to nine. Eradicate the political system as present, to present the already current code…

May harmony find u,

Irena Phaedra