MAGICIAN. /

           ‘  i never meant to come between  you  &   him . ’  

                                                             or do i have to make an appointment   ?   ’  

         ‘    you stand there & accuse me ,  but where were you at the time ?  ’ 

          ‘  this isn’t just about you .  it’s about what’s best for all of us .  ’  

         ‘    matthew   ,    what did you bury in the garden  ?    ’   

just dropped by to check up on things and wow! i did not expect the sudden influx of followers! 

                        HE ALLOWS THE SILENCE TO STAGGER .   /    eyes slipping downward to examine the way his hands had suddenly clenched themselves tight ‘round the handles of his motorcycle   ;    for a moment  ,  parrish doesn’t say much of anything .   his head ,  like always  ,  overtakes him  ---  mind kicking into gear for  a solution  ,   an answer  ,  some sort of explanation  to matthew’s lack of sensory  &  understanding .  the boy always did strike him as acutely aloof  ---  the walking  ,   breathing  head-in-the-clouds metaphor  ---  &  the lack of another  lynch  by his side worries him terribly .   adam leans to the side  ,   kicking up the lower kickstand of the bike toward the sidewalk .   ‘   . . . come here ,  matthew.  let’s get you home.  ’   he was already on his way to the barns anyway .  surely ronan needed to attend to this .   as much as he hated to admit it ,  adam parrish still didn’t quite understand magic  &  it’s lawless properties .  

im terrible to my son

                            IT FELT WRONG .  /    the momentary freeing lift of weight off his shoulders  ,   his mind having mulled o’er his class schedule  &  work load in his head  ---   o’ver &  o’er again like he had been turning stone o’ver in his palms  ---   yet he was still dissatisfied .   nevertheless  ,   there parrish was  :  sitting up top the leather seat of his dreamt motorcycle  ,   the grip in his hands firm   ;   familiar henrietta breeze combing through dusty brown hair  &  his lungs give out a happy  ,   homey sigh.   he sits upright momentarily  ---  pressing pads of his fingers idly to his palms as he waits for the streetlights looming before him to flicker green .   if he hadn’t glanced o’er to the side  ,   he would have missed the familiar sight of bobbing golden curls  &  bright blue eyes   ;   striding effortlessly down the crowded sidewalk .   immediately ,  his instincts kick into gear  ---  where was matthew going unsupervised  ,   what time was it ,  didn’t matthew have school  ,  how old was he again ,  where was he going ?  ---  &  with a swift kick off ,  adam turns the motorcycle around & drives o’er toward where the boy walked   ;   clearing his throat sharply  .    ‘   . . . don’t you have class ,  matthew  ?    ’     //  @dreamtgold​

                       THE TREES SPOKE LATIN.  /    &  sometimes ,  adam understood .  the endless nights of pouring o’er dictionaries  &  textbooks  &  scribbled down notes had assured that  ---  finding  &  binding with cabeswater itself had fixed it down  ,   &  ronan lynch was the glue that solidified the job .    he doesn’t know what to make of this  ,   not quite yet  ,  but he doesn’t outright hate it either .   waterpooled gaze would flicker slowly across the bunches of leaves that hung above his head upon thick  ,   grey tree branches    ;     heavy with spring .   he smells it in the air  ---  pollen  &  flower dust .   &  finally ,  his head turns  ---  knowing  ,   all at once  ,   who he was with .    ronan’s eyes always were the easiest to pinpoint in thick crowds .   ‘    what do you make of it ,  ronan  ?   ’   he’d gesture around with a wiry hand .   ‘    this is . . . a dream , right ?   ’    it has to be.   i wasn’t here before.   //  @somniaar​

                          A PART OF PARRISH HATES THIS .   /    hates the buzzing incline of the magic that instilled itself within his veins  ---  adam likes to think of himself as a planner ,  an attentive organizer  ---  &  yet the bargain with cabeswater had been anything but that .  locked within those trees  ,   fingers stabbed into the moist forest ground down to his knuckles until he could feel something breathe  &  seize under his touch  ---   (  i will be your hands ,  i will be your eyes  )     &   that had been that .   he should be behaving differently about these subjects   ;   his group of friends were all something more than reality  ,   their own blood tinged with something promising more  ---  &  there was adam’s brain  ,   still stuttering  & bending to apply realism to something that was not meant to be labeled .   ‘    no ,  not yet.   ’   his accent trickles o’er his words ,   though he’s too tired to clip it away properly this time.  he remembers the red mustang  ---   he doesn’t mention it .    ‘     but it won’t be long until it’s done.   ’     i don’t want to go back home .  not after what i saw.   he thinks he’s rather thankful for noah’s uncanny ability to have silent conversations with him like this .  thoughts hurt less than words .