I discovered the Squatras while performing a mirror ritual in the vacant lot behind the house. A mirror is the shiny back entrance to nasty yet gratifying realizations. The cast of puppets and dolls used in the ritual were positioned around the broken mirror frame, and I had ignited the sacrificial white male action doll, after dousing it with a measured half ounce of high test, poured from the holy gasoline container, made of safe, reliable neoprene, into a dropper bottle I think of as 'the grail.' I use a very special funnel to pour the gas. No fuck ups.
A 'squatra' is a spiritual plexus that opens up, like a zit, pouring forth groove juice, when you are squatting. I was squatted down near my outdoor shrine when a few of my inner squatras opened. Damn, it was profound. Felt great. Like twelve tabs of X, all cutting loose at once. It was a reminder that spirituality is sensuality, and things like the condition of your squatras may be imperative to it. You'll get off better once you grasp your squatras.
A 'squatra' is a spiritual plexus that opens up, like a zit, pouring forth groove juice, when you are squatting. I was squatted down near my outdoor shrine when a few of my inner squatras opened. Damn, it was profound. Felt great. Like twelve tabs of X, all cutting loose at once. It was a reminder that spirituality is sensuality, and things like the condition of your squatras may be imperative to it. You'll get off better once you grasp your squatras.
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