Remember me in this laurel crown wrapped in gold and roses painted red a fitting piece to match my black gown that I'll wear when I'm finally dead.
As you lay this body down, down on cold hard forest ground-- split it open and salt inside, cut out spots where demons hide. Grind the bones to make your bread and forget about your empty bed. A wolf circles-- your quiet crypt keeper to greet this new death like winter's Reaper. Falling leaves will … Continue reading April 2 : Winter
Something is wrong with me-- something small and dark is lurking in a place I cannot find. Maybe it is sharp, and pricks the fingertips of men who dare to hold me close. Maybe it whispers in their ears as we lay asleep, a midsummer nightmare beat in racing pulse. They spit me out, perhaps … Continue reading atropa belladonna
Back to the nest she goes, bones tired and heavy. To chew on dead lips stretched in cold smiles. To chatter in deaf ears, the skulls starting to decay. She will writhe under the false light, the one meant to warm and comfort. She will clutch at the darkness, eyes wide to let in the … Continue reading Rat Tales
The following originated as a term paper for the creative non-fiction class I took the spring of my senior year. My original subject, "Why I Don't Go to Church," was inspired by Anne Lamott's essay "Why I Don't Meditate." I. A single beam of light falls upon the cardinal as he speaks to us, the reverent crowd. He … Continue reading In My House of Worship