ashtoreth: (dragon of eden)
I told you I was the witch.
I told you I was the wolf.

I cannot dumb it down any more for you.

Society has already made you~
an ignorant cow, stupidly chewing
the cud of media bullshit
in the putrid glow of your television screen.
(Your kind makes me want to scream.)

I would try to elucidate you,
but I have given up the habit of banging my head against society's walls.

Instead...

I shall eat with you honey collected from the finest foxgloves and mandragora,
and grown in the garden you seek to Roundup and destroy.
My words always sweet to your kind, but dripping poison
to undermine you.

I shall perfume the air with salvia, wormwood, and myrrh.
My eyes watchful, waiting for you
to dip a drowsy nod & then I shall haunt your dreams
and turn your world inside out.

I shall feel the moist soil on my hands as I dig,
continuing to plant ivy to climb your walls and pull them down.
I will tend the slender willow, smiling when her roots crack open your controlled pipelines
and release the wild waters across your barren landscape.

I shall continue to anoint my skin with hemlock,
belladonna, henbane, and wild rose;
With my touch alone, I shall send you to the wild mountain to dance with the devil
and pull civilization from your shrieking soul.

I am the witch.
I am the wolf.

If you continue to seek my company
I shall, like Beatrice, kill you
so that you are reborn,
fit to keep me company.

 


Crossposted to Imps of Ink.
ashtoreth: (dragon of eden)
"I don't understand you."

You might if you noticed.


"I don't know why you (insert everything but the one thing you like here)."

I know you don't, hide-bound in
your orthodoxy,
your dogma,
your conservatism,
your fear.


You see only one side of the umbrella of me turning a blind gaze upon me when I twirl~


dancing in the rain.


You see only my back - or worse,
only the footprints I leave when I wander through the unmapped forest~


There's wolves there... and witches.
Which scares you the most?
You cannot grasp that I am both.


You want me to be just one thing.
You want me to be your version of me,
your vision of me sacrosanct in your imagining,
your security, your comfort, intact.


But,
you cannot force me to answer to one name,
one label,
for your convenience or safety, coward.


I am not a single flower, mother-fucker,
I'm the whole damn Garden.


 



Crossposted at Imps of Ink

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