A bell sings.
I take a step diagonally to the right and listen for the creak in the floorboard to determine I am in the right place.
I know I am already because the scent of bitter lethargy has entered my system and I feel my body dissolve into that fuzzy orange glow again.
The bookshelves here are stocked with crystals and the air around me vibrates slightly, pulsing to a familiar beat.
Outside of this temple, breathing will kill you slowly, but inside, the witches will kiss your lips and give you forever.
It's a wonderful place, really.
The ceiling is purely stardust and they take angel-making commissions in exchange for half your soul.
The snake-eyed man in the back room will sell you an ounce of moon rock pills in exchange for a confession.
The only rule is that it must be one of sin, and if this is where you meant to come, chances are you have plenty.
They know all about god and his canvases and they will not hear you if you try to warn them of his wrath.
They're not afraid of things like that, not the big things.
They're afraid of stepping on a broken teacup.
They're afraid of running out of orange juice.
They welcome piles of ash and praise ruin.
They will love you.
YOU ARE READING
the space above my ears.
Poetryfreestyle poetry/prose absolutely feel free to comment and vote! i love hearing what other people have to say/interpret; let me know if i should keep uploading.
