Sunday, March 17, 2019

i'm the medicine man, home delivery service for the witches in recovery, for the witches cat's and birds, for the witches of the suburbs. hunted by greedy landlords, harassed by the glamour and it's carnivorous nature, the profiteers and power crazed control freaks in dark tinted window cars that stretch into tomorrow to steal for today, the energy eaters, crowd pleasers, the vampyric lords of the estate and the enemies of love and life.
surrounded by ravens she pours me a drink, bubbles, steam and very deep red, i wonder at it's nature and what information it holds. i've brought a friend along, he's in a wheelchair and looks happy at the birds, who come sit upon our heads and shoulders. we are bird men now brother, maybe i am just a bird brain.
the raven is a black eyed messenger who whispers in my ears, tells secrets and codes of origin and destination. feathered messenger, harbinger, oracle. my friend is playing with another big black bird, it sits at his lap and he leers down into it's big black eye sharing a knowing. i can see the information exchange, deep stuff indeed.
the drink is vital and necessary an elixir, it tastes of martian lakes, oceans maybe before the destruction. it's life potential, i gulp it down fast.
she shows me a series of photographs, they all look innocent enough but as i look again from a different angle they take on a more sinister look. these have my attention they are quite amazingly effective and disturbing. the series of photographs seem old but are more frightening than any modern horror movie, wow, i'm spooked.
the house is filled with witchcraft paraphernalia and ravens everywhere. i sit back down and enjoy conversation with my friend, we both have birds nesting in our heads.
the witch potters around and takes some photographs, it's good to see her, she looks healthy and happy. she tells me about her plan which is really interesting and i have to say quite innovative. 
later when we leave it is difficult, i feel quite comfortable here in her home, it reminds me of my gothic tastes and ambience. even my friend does not want to leave. he says good bye to the birds and my friend and we shuffle down the steps to our van. 

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