Call me now for ya free beatin
Come closer now, sugar .. I see de future, an it is MESSY
De cards show me a Pirate Man, name of Styx /
@Styxhexenhammer666 - some call him Tard, but dat between him an de wine box. Tard when de rum talk louder than his brain. He sail not de seven seas, no no - he sail de back roads by getting rides from Mother Pam or his current BPD ho, de jewTtube, twitter and farms comments section.
Around him swirl three stormy storm battered women, all vibratin like bad Wi-Fi.
First card - The Ghetto Queen. Loud voice, louder opinions. Thick in all directions, sittin nights in a retail store security office behind cracked plexiglass, starin at camera feeds that dont save. She wear a badge she printed herself an talk like she law enforcement. She swear she a witch of de jewTube, got videos, no good, go none of de views, got attitude, but cant cast a spell strong enough to keep her job hours consistent or her rent current.
Second card - The Stoner Empress living like a queen for de low rent. Round like de moon, build like de bean bag, chile, slow like molasses, always sayin, "Its not addiction, its medicine." She forget what she mad about halfway through de argument and order Taco Bell instead, permanently reclined, always talkin bout vibes while eatin something, take de pictures of de bad food. She start arguments over the leftover turkey then restart em cause somebody ate her snacks. Spiritually enlightened she say.
Third card - The Psycho. Oh chile. Bones, eyes, an rage. Manic episodes runnin daily like a subscription service. Always screamin bout curses, demons, betrayals, an how everyone else the problem. CPS know her name, her address, an her excuses. She call herself a mother but move like a disaster zone with a phone plan. Everybody tiptoe round her, but she still explode on schedule. Eyes like lightning, joints rolled tighter than her grip on reality. She cry, she scream, she throw tarot cards like ninja stars and call it "shadow work."
An ohhh - I see an EX-WIFE, chile. She dont need magic. Her power is removing the Tard from de Netherland - de long memory of a woman who done already cried all her tears. She stand off to de side, sippin iced coffee, watchin de circus burn. She dont shout. She dont smoke. She dont pretend to be magical. Her power is receipts, timestamps, an the calm patience of a woman who already cried all her tears years ago.
Between dem all - who talk to who, who knocked up who, who did de abortion, who definitely shouldnt have hooked up after three glass of de wine - is pure chaos. Everybody claim to be a warlock, a witch, a mystic .. but nobody can conjure common sense. Plenty smoke, plenty drink, plenty argue bout vibes and betrayals at 4 a.m ..
An in de middle of de storm .. little Tarlette. Small, quiet, and be seein everything. De cards say she wiser than all of dem put together, sittin with her headphones on, thinkin, "I am NOT endin up like these people."
Tarot cards flyin. Spell jars breakin. Everybody claimin empath powers while bein straight evil. Weed smoke thick, liquor cheap, Facebook posts long, an accountability nowhere in sight.
So hear me now, darling -
De future say: more drama, more fake magic, more social media rants ..
More threats nobody follow through on.
But also? Some of dem gonna age out, some gonna sober up,
An de child? She gonna sail far away from dis nonsense.
I am Miss Cleo - an dat is de truth as de cards reveal it, an dat is de truth as de cards drag it out, kickin an screamin.