Turbulence

Three of Pentacles

&

The Star Reversed

you’ve manifested magick in the mundane, 
but it is still
only 6:22 p.m. 
on a Thursday
 
a gateway to sugar—
a poached void —
mimes a barren sternum 


this is just your heart trying to get comfortable inside your chest

in short, 
in essence—
in all the words I try to say to make this sound\\\\ ornate
 
you are headed the right direction
you are always encouraged to articulate
you are built for self-destruction
you are built to clean up the mess you made