She was an adderall addled techno gnostic

having graduated from wicca and the baby witches

who still hung around the apartment talking about incense

and the men they were screwing and how awful they were.

 

The occult is not fun or cool

and mostly bores people or perplexes them

her new late night rituals and readings

had me putting crucifixes on my bedroom door.

 

It took one bad salvia trip

and she was screaming at me over the phone

about how we were on a prison planet

that not even death could free us from the Demiurge.

 

It was a unique despair

the idea of the eternal matrix

of endless repetition

and knowing it.

 

Made worse by the pills

providing intensity and laser focus

staring at spots in the air

like she could very well see the grid.

 

I drug her outside one Saturday morning

after dumping the pills and tomes in the trash

I pulled up some dewy grass and closed it into her hand

‘This is real,’ I said  ‘And so are you.’