It was an ancient mate recipe which it is said to awaken your inner most frightening demons.
Mr. Bojangles came rushing in from the back of my pineal gland exciting the nerves itching from inside the brain down to the core of my spine shooting blood and salts. I got up to restrain the beast’s impending attack but the demon awoke its maximum force and threw me down to my knees to swear an oath with its allegiance.
I couldn’t open my eyes to face such
unspeakable terror. The dominant mask I was wearing enabled Mr.
Bojangles to take absolute control and laughed at its heart’s content.
Once again I had lost to him without even starting; the battle as I perceived it, changed. I was defeated.
symbol appeared quite suddenly, as if called upon. The heart was
radiating pulses of both sound and light, red as vivid blood with golden
suns exploding in its contour.
The tea had abandoned the illusion in a seemingly moment of calm and tranquility.
I had lost, but Mr. Bojangles was simply an idea, a thought embodied in feelings rather than an actual manifestation of the real power behind iwhat I alone have experienced and suffered.
Upon my return my friend pointed out that I said only one thing, that curiously had been forgotten by both of us over tea…
And he asked me rather nervous, who or what is “Mr. Bojangles”?.
A sudden chill made it impossible for me to utter anything.
I kept on moving and pretended not to remember.
I wonder how many have done the same.