Everything fell into place, all except the human race. The sun set low but there was warmth. Coming somewhere far from north.
It was a struggle in the beginning. Vague form. Basically just greyness. This went on for years. Pulling on strings, wondering what is next. Nothing. Nothing Nothing. Where is the magic? What is the meaning of this?
She appeared and the flood followed. The formula formed. The waterfall. The monster’s hairy head, the cliff, the clit, the empty bed, the tree, the well, the blackened thread. Only then I noticed the eye or two or three or four, I’ve stoped counting.
I tell you, my creative nature needs taming not enhancing. i’m in a lot of trouble if I let go. And I can let go. I tried it, it’s frightening and exhilarating. Madness can be blissful.
