forging a book of spells

Macabre danse, dark leaves in high wind. Swift time to ask that boon of wizardry, to recite or seize at magic’s will or mine. To speak, demand, one must first understand or stand under what’s to come from ignorance. Breathe leaf and wind, their essence; skillfully dream peace and blessings; dance lightly within the danse.

10/28/17

Far sought, darkest, deepest dreams so far, long departed before consciousness rewakes ghosts, impure images, whispered wraiths may haunt beyond sensory acceptance vague nauseas, involuntary shakes, subtle odors suggesting graveyards in rain and mist and pain yet never really say where forward leads

10/27/17

darkening clarity, pixels come together posing form ghoulish, still sincerity, nightmares are potent dreams, after all night tells tales, whispers that scream raw from silence not easy to discern, discover truths of brutality or viscous lies here, in deep disparagement of violence, small stabbings take widening toll bloodlines reassemble, prophetic fingers tremble – see their glory, lightning bursts, cosmic debris