Month: June 2022

Strange brew

I drift away from internet, slowly putting down the mouse and keyboard. Alestorm once or twice sang about thirst for rum. My thirst is for books.

I beat my own life record, reading six books in a week. And I enjoyed all so much, that my wings batted behind me in utter joy. Reading gives me worlds that make me feel less depressed, less pained and less sick. I don’t think about bad that drifts in my life like waste in the sea. I just dive into an odd mix of fantasy, danger, angels, ancient gods and dark magic.

And this is my life since I last checked. I will be making brew with witches and setting up Ragnarok with Loki. Do not search for me – I am fine. Better than before.

About names

When I was a teenager and first time entered the internet world, I thought names can define us in many ways, that they are like clothes which can be changed when we feel the need. Change is good. Change makes us evolve.

And then came the bashing, biting and torment. I was dragged like a wet mouse for changing my nickname every year/half a year. It became a sport to bash people who change the names. Especially me, because I did do that many times.

When I left this toxic gathering, I understood, that names aren’t stick to us like a pin buried deep into our skin, forever. They are not our eternal graves where we rot. We all change every few years and names can change with us – if we want it, if we need it.

And with names, there goes the aura. Atmosphere. And persona we feel at the moment.

Let there be light. Or eternal darkness. Darkness filled with glowing names, each like a fresh fruit, ready to be picked.

Egypt remembered

I was dusting off the wardrobe, trying to find something that I forgot I had since I was ten. Didn’t find it – but found something that made me terribly nostalgic and broke me into remembering times of my schoolyears.

When I was a teen, I loved Christian Jacq books. He was writing exclusively about ancient Egypt and his writing was immensely simple. But at the same time dwelled so much into common life of egyptian people, into tiny bits about their customs and religion and social structure. Actually, it read like a fairytale, the simple style seemed to flow like a myth by the fire.

I didn’t try to read these books again. I am so afraid to destroy the magic of memories. I know my taste in books changed a lot. Let the egyptian judge and Ramses stay in fondly remembered youth.

Now, I will write second chapter of my new egyptian gods novel. How good is to be inspired.

Incitatus Jig

My country crawls into black hole, where gravity crashes people and grinds them between moons and swallowed planets. Still not embracing why people want to be mashed like potatoes, squeezed like oranges. Because only some masochistic rush to destruction can explain supporting the money-eating, thieving government.

To be completely honest, my cat would be better prime minister, and my dog a better president. One doesn’t need to be batshit insane to bring horse to a senate. Maybe I should name my cat Incitatus. And open before him door to political career.

Books will burn. Human rights too. Everything will fall apart in this rotting sickness that drills Poland alive.

Darkness My Bride

The blood dust surrounds me, like a promise of fever. I embrace my heritage, I embrace my vile nature. Blood; sweet like dark honey, creature of copper autumn, crimson like wine and fallen leaves. Blood, which changes my eyes into rubies. Blood – a sibling of all sins, delicious sister of Lust and Greed.

When my fangs open your vein, the beating of your pulse fills me like a sound of drums; heavy, dull and dark; like night filled with horrors. Your body opens before me – receptive and sublime. It’s never enough. It’s never enough for me.

Humans. They exist to feed the hand that tamed them, to oblige the lords and ladies of twilight, dusk and midnight. And when moon swallows the sun forever, the night eats our fears, the night gives us wings to reach the bleeding stars.

Your desire still not quenched, your willingness to offer me yourself still not sated. Lose yourself in my arms and change the wine in my cup into the richest essence of life, fill my eternal hunger.

I feel like thorns trace a trail on my backbone, the passion boils in me. Tearing the veil from your innocence. With kisses sharp as crystalline edges, blinding you with excellence of the deepest darkness.