benjamism

I have a predisposition for the belief in magic. If you don't believe in magic, and you love to pretend to be an icycle, black in the center in broad daylight flowing downward and eroding the floor in it's path. I want candles that flicker and explode. Heat, to the point of it being unbearable, like the heat of a sunflower, and the sensuality of the sea. Clouds and dark storms at night, moisture rises and falls in sexual battle toning it's particles into verilean and seperation. This is about the mind, as the sea is about the mind.