Post #4218638

My friend, a poast is like a post, but it's soft, pillowy, and comforting like a supple bosom. It's everywhere you want to be, but a place you're not sure you've ever known at all. It's a little scary at first. It's so big, and full of "content". Will it hurt? It might, but most good things come with a little hard fought pain. You might have to bite your lip and take it in. It's crisp and hard like an R that ends a word, but elastic and starchy, clapping back to hit you like an inflatable Rambo punching bag with Sly Stallone's trademark droopy trisomy lip. A poast is a font of untold mystery and esoteric knowledge forbidden to all but the anointed, yet scattered before you like nurturing ash on a field to take in through your roots, and become something stronger than you were before, with no cost of admission...tantalizingly dangled before you, making you wonder, are there any gossamer strings attached, or does it fly there in the ether through some 7th density energy you haven't get accessed through the empty chalice you made out of David Wilcock's massive skull? A poast isn't some simple typographical mistake. It's life everlasting, burned on the pages of eternity for future explorers of the multiverse to find and be nurtured by some far off sunny day on a planet that looks like this one, but shares none of the ubiquitous faggotry. That's what a poast is. Pin it. Tattoo it on your forehead. Bag it, tag it, and study it like the Holy Grail of specimens.