A friend's divorce was finalized today.
Chalk up another victory for the fugacious harlots running rampant in this land.
They sell their soul to the god of happiness, the flitting emotion of illusion.
You demand others to hone in to your personal magnetic north, which is always...moving...here...no...there...no, really...no...yes...no...
Or, more accurately, does not exist except in your imprudent minds.
Buy the lies and bow to the golden calf.
Out of your mouths comes the feigned desire for God to forgive your deliberate and calculated acts.
You don't mention anything from 2Tim3 or 1Tim4 when you converse with God, do you sweetie pies?
You will lose no sleep tonight.
The Lazaruses you have created will be up, licking the sores with your names seared into them.
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