Magick is a wonderful thing, it balances the spirits, and finds such appealing ways to satisfy it, ground yourself, drink some tea or ginger ale, it’s better than being set on fire by flames of desire, willful and willing, acting the fool, for the slight chance of poontang, you can cast a spell, or offer a tarot reading, offer your fate, to someone willing, I've avoided so much, with just poetry and divination, but alas, the red string of fate, it’s such a fine thread, that spider weaving his web, the fishermen casting his net, as the cookie crumbles, my wife and the smell of flowers, ripe and ready, it blooms, a kiss on the lips, this may simply be, where I happen to be to landing, fish and the bait, chemical reactions, to avoid our fate, can it even happen…
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