[Spell] M-A-G-I-C is combining letters into a word, but there’s nothing magical about that. For instance (in an instant) oops is nearly poops. And there’s nothing magical about arranging words into sentences: peaceful warlocks, although word-locking, are not the fire that forges, coddles the cauldron, they’re just stirring the content with a large wooden spoon and chanting big stick ideologies*. I won’t consent to spooning or an unprotected hex, but nonetheless, they’re force feeding me their entropy on a spoon that doesn’t fit in my mouth. It splits my cheeks like bat wings stapled on a chalkboard. Now that I can’t talk, I’m brainwashed by a brainstorm, flooded, in fact, I’m a reservoir on the mind map of subjectivity. If one sees their reflection in me, then they’ll dive in the deep for as long as they can hold their breath. My brain is on the bottom, beating like a heart and emanating waves in the cup of my hands.
*Big stick ideology refers to U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt’s foreign policy: “speak softly and carry a big stick.” Roosevelt described his style of foreign policy as “the exercise of intelligent forethought and of decisive action sufficiently far in advance of any likely crisis.”
Leave a Reply