Good Morning, Miss Natalie
I'm fine, how are you?
A spell of politeness and flattery
Specially written for you.

Holy f*cking ****, Alex
If we get caught, we're so *******
Energy unbound, mischief abound
Spells i cast to keep up with you.

I'm fine, don't worry, Mother.
I love you but you must let me write these myself
Silenced lips, secrets and the curse of respect
Wards protecting the fears i shove in the back of my shelf
.
.
.
hey...you...
i missed you today

you press your face,
mumbling, into the palm of my hand
my grimoire begins melting
the spells dripping from where i stand

i caress your cheeks with my thumbs
small circles,
gentle, light
the utter safety of what i can trust to be true

i have no need for spells around you.

A raggedy old doll,
all ***** and dusty,
lying on the floor of old cabin.
When snuggled at night,
he sat up and sang,
a verse of the spellbook
of Sabians!

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“My heart warmed of her presence,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Her flowering scents so pleasant,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“My mind about a treasure,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“My fortune is her pleasure,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Lost I am you see?”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Sun-ray crowned was she!”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Oh golden haired my raven!”

Just before dawn,
he sat up in bed,
to look upon his
new little girl.
Shined-up his button eyes,
and tilted his head…
then snuggled back into her curls.

What sorcery do you hold.. Is what I seek to find.  How do these enchantments work that have left me bound.
Locked in place, in the warmth of your embrace
In a trance like state, I succumb. Fall to knees that are weak, all senses numb.
  On which page of your spellbook can it be found.

I am all the magic I have ever needed.
I am this thinking, valid creature.
And while not every verse beckons
Itself to be the grestest.
It does desire to be sang.

Magic is poetry, it is the nature of the craft.
Words are cantations whick evoke emotion.
By my bedside, is my own spellbook.
I write whatever I wish to be and it is so.

That truth is as real as you believe it to be.
I bleed my own words, I suffer in their truth.
I become ecstatic, and at peace.
That is my serenity, my sleight of hand.
My magic, my fortune.

In an empty ballet room, I grasped a blue spellbook with unknown proximity. Its enthralling sensation made me realized that I truly never mastered the ability to feel withdrawn. There are certain things in life that I cannot look away from—such as enticing gestures, delicate scenery and a glass full of wine. I am who I am and none of the people I have met or I will meet can change that.

I had this clarity that I have to feel big, even in small spaces and that I don't have to feel small in crowded places. Although I sing a different song when I am alone—fearful yet incandescent, and sometimes menacing, at least for me—my own colors can be atrocious, and yes, I love it.

a witch's death mask turned up on the black
market--rumored to have shrunk herself, leaving
behind a thumb size cast.
ending up on the living room wall of an elaborately
detailed dollhouse, conjuring the whole transaction.
remanifesting like rot's backhand--her nose touching
her crutched chin, which conceals a sunken mouth
frittering away two teeth.
she pokes around the dollhouse with her *******
bouncing off her knees, as phlegmy laughter trickles
***** down bamboo stalk legs.
her *** is a wrinkly retraction, covered by strands of
white hair that appear fished-out of her skull.
she's just fertilizer patch, wet & wild about hell playing
dollhouse--& how wearing the death mask seems to
say something about her, even while pretending.
she must leave a few telling traces, so she peels off nursery
wallpaper--with leafy apples between slow to learn letters.
throws a black *** on a fireplace, making its flames shoot
up & fall like a timed fountainhead--caressing it as an
expectant mother would, the very joy of a spellbook.
until her fingers blister, and their swirlingly green prints
can be deflated--worshipping how dead skin clings to life.
then she slips into a plastic mirror & begins squeezing
blackheads from her overarching beak, until wormy ****
sprouts from the mirror.
flicked off into a limnal-drab sink, then climbs out of the
mirror & wills all her hair to shed.
exiting into the greater house to observe the man who
purchased her death mask sleep.

Perfectly boiled down the whole modern kiddie-fantasy carnival into one steaming pile of “power-up till you puke” nonsense. It’s like watching a ******* hamster on a ******* wheel that never stops  just more power, more flashy moves, more ******* that means jack ****.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid meets Dragon Ball Z? Spot on. Little whiny kids suddenly turning into untouchable gods with zero effort or sweat, like magic fairy dust just dropped into their sad little  bullied  emo hands. No grit, no grind, no “earned” **** ... just ****, supernova mode engaged because plot demands  and  "  relatability?" , not because it makes any **** sense.

The magic wand nonsense? Hell, it’s like they went shopping in the clearance aisle of “Pretend Power Tricks” and picked up the lamest spellbook ever written. “Oh, say these 8 words in a funny voice and BAM — you’re the new Chuck Norris of the fantasy world!” Meanwhile, the audience is rolling their eyes so hard they’re about to pop the back of their   MCU   time machine,  Dr.  Strange  had  a what again .skull.

Where’s the ******* blood, sweat, and tears? Where’s the ******* character growth instead of this instant super Saiyan horseshit? The closest you get is “let’s add another stupid form that’s like, 10 times stronger”  
that's what we traded away the real Mad Max for. That's why we don't make movies like Fight Club anymore. Not that anyone could. This is really what an adult, intelligent audience wants. Another Batman. We're about to get Tron again. I can't believe they did. I know what you did last summer. Who asked for that?
rinse and repeat till the fans get bored or their brains melt.

And the writers just keep churning it out like it’s a ******* assembly line: “Okay, kids, here’s your new overpowered move! Next episode, we’ll throw it out and do it again!” It’s exhausting. It’s insulting to anyone who actually wants a story that means something.
Magic wands and “say the magic words” *******? Please. It’s like they raided the discount bin at Wizard’s R Us and pulled out the “Cringiest Spells for Dummies” handbook. You gotta wonder if the writers are even trying.  ****  Wolf multiverse  much  ? the “instant hero” Rowling *****  off  Tolkien.  Everything is magical. The ring is magical, the armor is magical the chainmail is magical, the sword is magical, the tree is magical. The river itself is magic. Is anything not magic? In the water, it's  a magic   sparkly vampire carnival.

**** that noise.  toss in some new flashy nonsense that’s irrelevant three episodes later. Big  eyes  zero  nose  Japanese  sludge.
My  writing  It’s the antidote. Real stakes, real growth, real consequences. No magic wand shortcuts or ******* power scaling. Just solid  writing that actually feels like a story and not a ******* merchandising campaign.