Sweet Jesus,
I lie prostrate at your feet, humble in the midst of your pink polypropylene light. Its it me or can I truly see the sweet fumes of mercy emanating from your assembly line molded heart?
As a pink donkey, I feel tied to you in a way that is un-nameable and mystical. I am like a child of Fatima, lost in the rapture of you with a deep purity, but I am also like Fatima’s high school janitor, strange and silent and ultimately probably a little retarded.
I ask for your blessing and wisdom as I embark on a quest to find my own pink plastic soul. Guide me with your light that glows like so many Three Mile Islands during pride week. Amen.
Peace out, Jesu’ Rosa.
Sweet Jesus,
I lie prostrate at your feet, humble in the midst of your pink polypropylene light. Its it me or can I truly see the sweet fumes of mercy emanating from your assembly line molded heart?
As a pink donkey, I feel tied to you in a way that is un-nameable and mystical. I am like a child of Fatima, lost in the rapture of you with a deep purity, but I am also like Fatima’s high school janitor, strange and silent and ultimately probably a little retarded.
I ask for your blessing and wisdom as I embark on a quest to find my own pink plastic soul. Guide me with your light that glows like so many Three Mile Islands during pride week. Amen.
Peace out, Jesu’ Rosa.