She wears rubies crimson as menstrual blood
And garnets dark as the battlefield’s gore
She is Astarte, She is Aphrodite
She is Ishtar, She is Inanna!
She licks pomegranate lips with a dawn-pink tongue
And between her thighs grows a red, red rose
She is Babylon, She is Lilith
She is Venus, She is Inanna!
they say “fake it ‘til you make it”
so here I am, a child playing dress-up
wearing my mother Bast’s smile and poise
Inanna’s confidence and Hathor’s positivity
and the Morrigan’s steel spine underneath it all
if I walk like them, talk like them
will I be strong like them?
will I be brave like them?
will I be good like them?
bury the dead | scorn the living
guard your sovereignty
(Image courtesy of Bane Folk, text courtesy of the Morrigan, tattoo courtesy of Divine Machine Tattoo.)
these days it is not the dead I fear
(my graveyard sleeps beneath ferns and moss and so do my ghosts)
but the living, those who have not yet had the decency to perish
(so I may bury them in the soft soil and be done)
who instead blunder blindly where they like
and crush the undergrowth in their wake
I am my own shoulder devil
(do it, do it, do it)
my own shoulder angel
(you’ll regret it, you’ll regret it)
and these days I don’t much care what I choose
I’m always unhappy with the results
drag me like a tiny ship into your chill black waters
shatter my hull, snap my decks, tear away my sails
I offer you my fear; drown it in the deep!
I offer you my hate; drown it in the deep!
I offer you my sorrow; drown it in the deep!
transform what remains of me into teeth and wrath
set my maelstrom heart free to devour the world
I am a vortex too, inside
I am negation and I am destruction
I am entropy and I am anarchy
I am Nemesis, I am Charybdis
I am a black hole, I am a rotten soul
I am your undoing
and I am coming