Beasts and Maidens

Do you have sometimes an urge to read something just because the characters look your your OCs? I don’t even read romance, heck, I dislike it. But the beast looks like my Rauta and there is a moment in my novel when Savrunne also looks like this girl on the cover.

Now I am torn. To read or not to read. I may dislike it but I may also like it.

The problems of OC creator.

Today

Today I swim in Styx. My skin drinks the water of the underworld. My nerves feed on pain emerging from the black river.

I want to sleep. And wake up when Hades disappears in the mist.

This Dawn

you are guardian of the dawn
emerging from the lakes of clouds
among oceans of awakening light
a dream of the young sun
a spear of celestial gleam
in the heart of slumbering night

Snow Faery

The first snow put my house into a cozy pillow of safety. I feel better with snow. I feel like winter is my time, when I am better, stronger and can do much more – without fear created by cruel sun, unleashed over seething earth. It’s a season of ice faeries and northern wind caressing my face with chill.

I like my warm jacket and my black metal music I take on every walk between the white and the sky.

Don’t stop falling, snow. I want to lose myself in you. A winter court fae, which waited so long for her element…

Fear/Pain

Absence of fear facing the multitude of pain.

This is my life. I forgot how to fear. But never will forget how to suffer.

I will never know if it’s for the better or for worse. But I know that it will last until my path ends and fade on the horizon.

This is my life. Pulling my nerves and winding them on a spool.

Tiny Shards

Tiny shards of violet crystal lay scattered under my skin. Inside my brain. In my soul. I promised myself many times that I won’t join fandoms, because how toxic they are and how my introverted personality feels even more lonely in them, a loneliness in big crowd, worst kind of it. Few years ago, that was about to be my last time.

I almost lost the Dark Crystal among people I tried to fit but honestly, they never fitted me. Desperately tried to somehow scrap the aura from this cursed gem I still love. But yes, more heartbreaks and more wounds followed.

Never say never but I doubt I will ever join fandom or anything even slightly similar to it.

I love my violet crystal above anything else. It grows in my heart, roots deep into it, tangled with my veins, feeding my skeksis soul with crystalline essence.

Not that I can’t live without a huge dose of it pumped by the fandom straight into my system.

Only if I am already dying. Which will never happen. I am a Hunter. I am eternal.

Perhaps

My nightmares spoke vicious tales of love and loss. Tangled within long branches, my wings were trapped in fatal infatuations and unfulfilled mirages. Dripping with bitter sap, they stuck in glue, spread over the trees by goddess of Things That Must Go Wrong.

Why did the goddess release me?

Perhaps she was just fed up with the sight of a bleeding raven biting their tormented flesh to pull their heart out. A bird eating it’s own feathers. A hunter being hunted by their will to break from the cage made of familiar moss and flesh-gnawing thorns.

Maybe I am free. Maybe it’s an illusion, and it will start all over again, when I close and open my eyes.

Maybe the hell is sucking me in right now, and I am becoming one of its demons, eager to cause pain and bathe in sin.

Though. I want. To. Believe.

There is always a hope, that this forest before me is real. And I am just taking the first breath filled with the scent of pines.

Earth’s Veins

we are tangled in earth’s veins
they pulse inside our hearts
like stars made of soil and leaves

lighted from within
they feed us with whispers of the gods
and misty dreams of the morning woods

our flesh gleams with tears of the darkness
open wounds – healed with the touch of sacred blood
of those who hide in the night

of those who kiss with bared teeth
and embrace with oustretched talons

we are tangled in earth’s veins
green ichor flows under our skin
melting our nightmares, rebuilding our dreams

The Wolf

I fed the wolf that howled at night, scraping the door with sharps claws, eager to see the woods again, scared that it will never see the moon again. Trapped between yesterday and today, it couldn’t look in the tomorrow, or preferred to not look into the one, that was caged behind bars, with a bowl of food given once a day, and a collar made of leather, choking it.

I fed the wolf, who bared its teeth at the world, to not get wounded again. A beast of vengeance that still remembered the wrongs done twenty years ago, unable to forget, spreading the hurt over now. The wolf, who yearned for freedom, yet it was bound to wounds, which it got on the hunt done so long ago, that it blurred, leaving only ghastly image of blood and running prey.

I fed the wolf that replaced the two mouths on my shoulder. It became my angel and my demon, my bloodborn adviser and safety concealment.

Maybe I overfed it.

I still listen to it. It growls silently into my ear. But I know when it lies.

My Fenrir, a blood child of the trickster, never is truly honest with me. And when the past emerges, spilled by its maw just into my heart, I shut it with a tale of freedom, with song of the dark woods, when our home is.

The home, where we are heading, together. Where past doesn’t matter and where the future is shining like a night flower, in the wilderness where our blood binds with veins of the trees.

Burn, Doll, Burn

I don’t embrace a certain thing that happens every week in my sleeping brain. Every once in a while, I have dreams of Chucky the murder doll, dripping of meat and blood. It stopped even being disturbing – more curious. Why? I love Chucky and honestly, it started to amuse me how my brain wants to make me dislike it.

Oh brain. You have no idea what horrors I have seen. My own dear past is much worse than these tiny burned scraps. I will continue loving that foolish abomination of a doll, because…

you shall not pass. Simply. And to the point. Haha.