when reading of icarus i
cannot help but fear the crushing weight of king minos combined with the over-zealous
wit of daedalus.

for icarus was perhaps too prideful;
met with a moment of weakness;
adrenaline coursing through his veins;
and a sheer loss of control
blinded by the highest point of the sun
in a blooming sky.

perhaps even he failed
to head his father’s warning
as the burning wax of his wings
melted upon his shoulders.

yet king minos sentenced daedalus
and too his son,
who later fell to the fate of his father’s own design.
not once
but twice.
not once,
but twice -
but twice,
but twice a child
returned with confidence
to his father.

and the ringing in my head still continues to be  that the child is not to blame for
the sins of the father.
the child does not carry
the sins of the father.

so it goes that in the end
daedalus was granted athena’s wings ever-soaring.
perhaps in grief;
perhaps in empathy;
perhaps by the grace of a woman’s forgiving touch.

but icarus still drowned in the spring.
and the ploughing of the fields
remained uninterrupted as his scorched  
waxen body fell into
the jowls of the sea.

The Devil never
          killed anyone,


              he let gods children

do that in his name...

A girl, a fool, a sinner.
I dance on tabletops of marble and glass
And when I fall, I fall hard.
My blood on the floor
Stars in my vision
I stand, and I sway, and I laugh.

You see, I bleed everywhere.
Red stains on my sheets,
The pages of every book on the shelf,
The hands of the people who try so helplessly to hold me up.
A bullet wound that never heals
And my clothes are crimson just like my smile.

My fingerprints are everywhere,
****** and smudged,
Because I need to exist and I need it known that I exist,
I need my existence to be scientifically irrefutable
Because if there is no proof I was here… was I?

I am a ghost in the hallways of my own palace
Haunting my own home, a whisper in the walls.
I do not belong here I say in the mirror.
You do not belong anywhere my reflection replies.
I find the darkest corner and bury myself there until somebody comes looking
But nobody ever does. At least, not looking for me.
They’re looking for her, the reflection, the girl I could be,
But I go with them anyway because I can’t be alone for one more second.

A long time ago I was a healer, and people believed that one touch from me could fix
The worst of their problems.
It was a beautiful concept and when I held court there would be a line of villagers
Bowing at my feet, begging for a kiss on the forehead, and I obliged
Not knowing what infected my kiss.
I spread a plague amongst my people and they all fell,
And I woke up one morning alone.

I’ve realized that the gods aren’t invincible.
I’ve met them and seen their faults, their broken pieces.
I studied their weaknesses (and trust me, they all have weaknesses)
And when the time came, I didn’t just destroy them.
I devoured them.
If you’ve ever wondered what ichor tastes like,
It’s a lot like blood. Like copper.
(Ask me how an angel tastes. That’s a story for another day.)
You see, the only thing that is invincible is the teenage girl.
A stake through the heart, a silver bullet, the teeth of Cerberus himself,
They can’t touch her. She dances around them all
With agility you can’t fathom unless you’ve been her.
You can’t stop watching as she rises and falls, rises and falls,
Blood on the stage and her dress and her palms.
Like me, on my tabletop, a chipped-tooth smile
And bruised knuckles that let you know I can fight.

You don’t look invincible my reflection says one day.
Tangled hair, glistening eyes, pink splotches on my face.
I’m smiling but I’m shaking and there is blood everywhere this time,
On the mirror and the sink and the floor. I’m scared of her,
The girl in the mirror, because she is the only person who sees me like this.
She is the only person who knows the truth about me,
Knows my awfullest secrets and yet she stays in the mirror.
You don’t look invincible she repeats. You look broken.

I smile. A true, genuine smile, and there is still ichor on my lips.
Same thing, I tell her.

Today is tomorrow,
For now does not exist.
It passes way too quickly
For anyone to catch a hold of it,
So now is then,
And then is in the past.
Time passes too quietly;
Words are no longer sufficient
To appease the gods that control it.
They decide when time stops
And when it runs away.

Herald of the sacred keep
Thunder in his gilded hand
Stirring all the souls who weep
Into realms of floating sand

The scarab sits atop its collected sphere
Wielding its mental sextant
It chases the sun
And it gives its life direction

Man sits atop the same
How we yearn for unreachable ideals
The gold of perfection
Ra, the sun

So scarab we aren't much different
We spend our lives with eyes fixed on the past
Blind to the future
We roll our cherished ***** into so many obstacles
Purely out of our condition
Strike the baring rock and become lost.

We climb back up on our ball
To find our golden god
And continue as if before
Our endless journey to find Tum

Indigenous knowledge and unwritten tradition
Ritual dances and pagan gods
She speaks to the deads
Heals the deepest wound
Whispers to the reindeers

But one day people with skins, the colour of snow, came
Untouched by her wisdom
Nothing she could do to stop them
The land was soiled
Purity went away