Voltaic Junkyard--animal fat

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--animal fat"
   
   Sheila was in a moody mode of relax, which was quite difficult for her, the young lady liking to be heavy on the gas minus the beans; regardless, listening to her Ham Radio, and broadcasting her own vociferous music sometimes, and without a license--but what the hell was anybody gonna do?
  Weird noise by way of antiquated radio waves in the night, like:  Eat animal fat if you have neurological problems, and put plenty of spice on it; plus, read DUNE, and prayer is meditation, just a jumble on the mix and merge of doing something beneficial for yourself or others.
   Sheila could also channel--anybody, and at any time.  She felt guilt here and there, but dark forces always attempt to infuse guilt because they're covering their own stinky shit.
   She was talking to Saint Mary Magdalene, her having similar blood, and a sisterhood of celibacy was inspired, knowing true love is in giving the rainbow kiss to the luminously illuminated, and not in incestuous manner, but as a child, spending and sending everything holy, which sizzles away the bad cell growth, being yourself, and knowing that you too can tune into things, even wolves, like did James Taylor, getting them reintroduced after much mutiny and murder, when they have always been friends of good men and women.
   One time, a coyote was caught in a wolf trap.  For three weeks it survived, the other coyotes bringing it food and sustenance, like a true, loving family might; indeed, New York City maybe should live side-by-side with these survivalists, for the true vermin would be gulped and gobbled, and nothing can kill a coyote save a horny toad, so some say.  And nothing ever dies unless deemed by God, for energy generates matter, always and forever.