#09.06.18

there’s a murmur from above and one too close for comfort. the double espresso shots still work their way through my system— fucking freeloaders. when i ask for energy, i got exhaustion, and with exhaustion came the heaviness and the creaking and the need for something i can’t quite place. today i was a seventeen year old, looking for a remedy. but maybe that’s not what i need. maybe, i just need a reason. this is what i have come to muse on today. a brilliantly mad wizard spoke to me in riddles during the peak of my june. 11:11. 1:11. 4:44. most often than not. 2:22. yesterday. 5:55. today. the universe is just the father of the sphinx. you know, that alleged cat who speaks in the tongue of the brilliant mad wizard and his kind, albeit in a less nuanced way and a more simple way. but certainly not as dangerous. why you may ask? those with lazy eyes and honeyed skin wizened with age and the quiet melodrama banging to the beat of a different drum might just tell you. if you ask nicely at the right place and the right time with wishing wells behind your eyelids, that is (it is). listen closely because you may not get the same answer twice.