This world is of amusement and play and somehow, I ended up spending my last quarter before my time went.
The players are bluffing. The lovers are losing. Everyone on this table is winning. Good bets and greater probabilities probably have nothing to do with luck and everything to do with certainty.
I've seen magicians utter binding spells and I believed what had kept me under. Every snake has a charm and they work with serpent tongues with words so cavalier. Every crocodile can tear. Everyone is a believer.
Game over. These archaic emotions are a token of your participation. It belongs to a past that refuses time, still framed in a moment. You've made the cut as the top scorer but who cares because when the plug is out, it wouldn't even matter.
Time to pull the disappearing act once this play ends its chapter. There was never magic, only trickery in the breakdown. The prestige is an illusion that came, went and returned, much like a guilty conscience. Or have you one and lost it forever.
You win some. You lose some. Repeat it to yourself once it is over, and over, and over.