Thus Spoke Sassafras

Believing in the kami makes the kami exist. I will not quote Neruda because he’s to you what Coelho is to me; tautology and wishful thinking, and I think it’s one hell of a deplorable thought. I mustn’t serenade because everything I sing may or may not become the next earworm. I would prefer not to quote Virgil or Horace’s convoluted Latin sentiments of the sublime like Amore omnia vincit or In aeternum te amabo; because you once told me that I like big words to which I respond; babes! you’re definitely witnessing the downfall of a posh grandiloquent. I refuse to go batshit unhinged on interesting trivia, like who died and decided that a group of bats should be called a cauldron? I also think that it’s frowned upon to write this in a sans-serif font and not have my conscience eating at me.  However, I am writing a tangent because that’s how we like each other, rhizomatic and fluid a not-so-gay amount (no offense to arborescent plants). I would like to regard all that I pen to you as