Swinging the Anti Rune

"We are the rogue state" reads a sticker on a car.
To think that I ate a Vietnamese crab for lunch is inconceivable.
It was pink and flaky, like me.

A gust of hot breath grazed my cheek.
It was very nearly overwhelming.
I don't mean malodorous, merely that it suggested intimacy.

The sky higher than normal and lacking a protective layer.
Vapour trails criss-cross but refuse to be read.

Current mood: Inelegant
Stains: Toothpaste
Bladder: 20 per cent full
Spoon: Red, plastic

I am Lord Merlin King of the Goblins and I cast magic runes up your wazoo.
I grew a shifty beard in seven days flat as
an antidote to winter and its rusted blade.
But now it's like durrrhh you look like whiskery vole man.
Stop being such a baby Virgo perfectionist.
Do it do it do it do it do it. Now!

This is an arcane practice known to advanced
practitioners such as myself as Swinging the Anti Rune.
And it doesn't pay the rent.

Every day I have the same illusion - that at some point
in the future there will arrive magical moments
where concentration and inspiration are in perfect alignment
But the language is pedestrian, the events are mundane
and there's no distance between you and your main character. 

His antlers were twitching feverishly in the thin, electric air.
Waiting for the seepage of air into the cribriform plate.
Tjoday hjis fjinal ijdea flowjed ijn hjis hjuman braijn juice.

Superstition: Evil eye trinkets
Aromatherapy: Peach favoured candle
Current Music: Éthiopiques
Sky: Rainbow trout

From molecular nanotechnology, 2004