“Alter thy
adversary and thou shall
Be free.”
These words, spoken within the moiré
Confines of
Jeanie’s bottle, trace the ripples & whorls
Decadent of
her furniture,
Echoing
revelations come as quickly as
Forgotten,
Graver declarations
met in broken glass,
Hours etched
in scintillas, in joyful
Iniquity.
Jeanie, “the
meddler, busybody,”
King Solomon
in the flesh has condemned
Lastingly to
suffer the pantomime of repeated
Manumission.
No mind,
makeshift
Order, or
natural
Propensity
can quit her of the perpetual
Questioner,
fool and master.
Rest assured,
Jeanie,
Soon your
sentence will end.
‘Til then,
thank you for waiting
Untold
millennia to bring us this barnacle
Vessel,
caching the correspondence of
War
salt-riddled from sunken
Xanadu, where
even ageless genies shall recover complete
Youth and
Zeal.
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