What the Witch Doctor Said to Me at Our Last Appointment

Sometimes the moon braids ocean tides into the hair Mother Nature wears. Sometimes joy burns wilder and brighter than Hendrix’s torched guitar. Sometimes loneliness speaks in a language of leaving trains. Sometimes our inner child crank calls our consciousness. Sometimes happiness is a warm gun that’s been melted into a paperweight. Sometimes the Stairway to Heaven is closed for repair; sometimes the Highway to Hell is gridlocked; sometimes that means I’m Stuck in the Middle With You. Sometimes in moments of desperation, we feed our sanity to the wolves. Sometimes blue can look like the color of the sky. At other times, the color of bruises.

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