What Spells Could You Cast With A Magic Marker?

With a magic marker I could cast the spell of drunken late night facial hair and rarely plucked eyebrows...on women.

I could give you an eyepatch and a murderer's scar on your cheek and set you free on the wild waters of the ocean on a boat made of beer cans and bad intentions and maybe you'd make it, but maybe you wouldn't and your soul would have to wander those waves for a lifetime and a day until you remember where the shore is.

I could draw you a maze on your face for your lover to navigate on the way to your mouth so when they kiss you, it's really worth it. The turns and twists would mirror their tongue and all the things you’d seen together and might still live to see and say. Maybe the effort would make them remember how much you mean to them, and maybe that would hold off your inevitable doom.

I could colour you some wisdom wrinkles so you could give out sagely advice and people would listen. They'd be crowding around you, like children should around elders but don’t, because who needs age when you have the internet. You'd be their roadmap and they’d believe you because they could trace yours on the lines I drew on your skin. But with my magic marker lines you wouldn't be watching over your shoulder for Death's cold hand. Maybe you’d start to feel old. Maybe you’d feel like you could live forever. But you wouldn't.

I could paint your skin dark or light so you could see what it’s really like to be on the other side of that neighbourhood or that fence or that place you’re always trying to get to, just to see. I could colour you dead and then back alive so you’re life tastes better when you breathe in and out again. I could draw you a third eye to see the things only the dead may know and the visions would haunt your dreams and waking nightmares until the sun came and banished those ghosts away.

In truth, I could change the colour of your eyes, your hair or your reality, but in the end, you’d wash it all away and be happier that you saw what was on the other side, and could still come home. And when the colours and lines drain away down the pipes like dreams that you couldn't capture in nets or hold in jars you’d blink yourself silent into a new day and hide that marker and me away in a quiet dark place until you need to roam this earth again.