Interlude Not even an origin

I couldn’t even wake him up today. Probably scared him off thinking about how easy it once was. How ecstatic. How the words flowed through and around me. “Your not him anymore!” he shouts from the bit of turf he has pulled around his shoulders, frozen nematodes and roots of hedge bindweeds hanging and glinting off his great belly like some antediluvian medals indicating meritorious attempts to manifest in the world.

He had grown bored with the assignment and wanted to go outside and play in the Big Woods. Unfortunately, due to his improper use of the grimoire, many of his future lovers would indeed be ‘Whitches’ caught between claiming their power and giving in to culturally conditioned indecision. As to the impact of the dishes and ragdy on the syntax of his life? I think The Replacements said it best “One foot in the door, the other foot in the gutter/The sweet smell that they adore, I think I'd rather smother”