Ooh la la.
Couch friendly herbals.
A tincture of thin, nighttime vampishness.
Ohh la Long.
A home theatre, a book with oppressed, marching ladies on the front cover.
A book about young pornographic poets.
A green candle with herbs and stones strewn methodically around it's base,
we call the base an 'alter'
not to be confused with a base you didn't pay for.
Basic needs, basic colors, basic prismatic spectrum, basic songs about Kenya.
Without a doubt, I see father of fire card, the emperor.
I have seen the card pop up, jump out, land on the floor, in front of the alter, incense burning for at least two years. Solid. Two years of a throne.
Two weeks of baited breath for no reason has me jammed up, and I don't know where the cotton goes anymore.
Now that the cotton-mouth is gone, I put a piece of cotton in my right ear.
I can't hear anything by the afternoon as I place an order for an Ooh-la-la-long tea and a serum of vitamin A.
It seems I can turn any local mall into a witch store if I want.
I host witchy kittens, a cat hotel.
Banana Lol Cat is coming to visit, but she doesn't know it yet.
The bat phone rang today on a false alarm.
Super-friends are too far away; I just want to walk to the beach.
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