You message me,
requesting my presence.
You must be
cold and alone
again.
The moon is full
and Mercury in retrograde.
Why else would you
call me this late?
You must be ready
to try again.
It’s always the same with you;
complicated ad infinitum.
All your little tricks,
really nothing more
than primitive superstitions.
I arrive late
and I’m not sure
if I
should be here at all,
to watch you cut yourself,
an offering
for your little
blood ritual.
I don’t think you know
what you’re asking for.
You like to play with power,
but you’ll open a door
to things you can’t control.
I know you don’t believe,
but you see,
I’m already here.
You go through the motions,
say your magic words,
as I conduct my ministrations,
take you to another world,
but leave you with your soul.
Tomorrow,
you’ll be disappointed,
but I’m afraid you don’t know
the price of what you’re asking for.
It’s more
than you’re
willing to give.
Trust me on this.
HG – 2021
