You know, you’re right – I’ve already sold freely given my soul to the devil(s), I deserve to wear the title¬†witch¬†in return. The black candle burns hot and high, after all, and I’m slowly inking a book of shadows into my skin. I bear the knife, I wear the honor; I speak in riddles and channel prophecies in my sleep. I know intimately the Sun and Moon and I can tell you things about them no other witch could, so why not claim the word for my own? If I believe, then why not believe in myself? I have the tools, I have the ability, what besides uncertainty holds me back? Nothing, because nothing can bind a witch.



give me bones of salt
that I may trap you in my arms

give me teeth of iron
that I may bind you with my words

give me a heart of stone
that I may seal you within me
so we can never
be parted