The last drop of The Witch’s Brew passes between the lips
it takes control of the hips & makes the body dip on an unworthy stick
if only there was a way to forget
Wait a minute. Something’s wrong.
I’ve already taken the last sip.
The cauldron is empty.
I’ve got a bad, bad feeling…that this has happened before.
I put the key in the door but it was already unlocked from the disturbance from the time b4.
I go to The Witch to get another batch.
She groans in a gravely hum
“Surely you haven’t finished the last order already? What could you possibly need it for? You’ve only just hatched.”
I walked away without a reply. No sense in applying a layer of logic on top of the illogical. It’s like spraying a bottle of pungent perfume over body odor.
It’d only highlight what was meant to be erased.
Posting a blog post, I suppose.
well. I may as well go back over yonder.
bc I know if the only thing The Witch will loan me right now is an itch
I know good & well
someone else (or something)
will give me what I need.