June 12th, Year of Silence

Witches come by white fire, or by firm winds. A dragon fierce is quickly defeated by a restless knight. A ghostly gaze through a cracked window, and when all else fails, the chimney can serve as an escape route. I count each rock, of which there are few in California, and place them in a circular arrangement for ceremonial purposes. Call the devil, summon the interesting dead, keep Jesus on the line. Look for fountains and a bottomless well, steal a wish. Lose it on the way to find Jack. I don’t know Jack. Wait for the Fall, as it waits for me. They tell me to tell them what I know, expecting me to know. Bells chime in the far off, but I am never around to listen. The earth splits open to take me in, but I will never rest again. Evil haunts, but never me, because I have become its fueling source. Hold his hand firmly, the man from the recurring dreams. Hold it, because it’s all I have left to truly call my own.

June 12th, Year of Silence

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