and so we enter into evidence...

the tick

tick

tock

of midnight witches burning their scarfs so red it was maroon. the folklore of fearless lovers. the forgotten typewriter used by tortured poets frozen forevermore in their madness. the sands of beaches where time escapes those with the biggest reputation for speaking now, rather than holding the peace. and to you dear reader, I ask... like clockwork, did the dominoes cascade and align?

what if I told you I was a mastermind?

meet us at midnight, sharp.

when diD wE stop Believing in magic? a mysteRy. arE

there clues you canNot sEE? in The lAvendeR hAZe

yOu'll rewirE your BRain. cOunt the clOcKS.

JUst Let It go & picturE us iN the trees hitting our

peaK At seven feet. weaRing rOse coLoured lenses.

looK at Your cLock. can you sEe us?

CAn you believe IT? Exile ends at midnight.

FinE mysticaL tIme burns waX on drug store candles.

as you draw a circle on the dirt floor, oPen your eyes, heArt and soul & be healed under The spell.