like the blood that seeps
through the holes n gaps in my skin
i patch it up
with paper and tape
but what lays underneath
calls every blade to my skin
i try again
to keep it away
but it causes a hunger that's impossible to satisfy
in any other way

but maybe that's a story for another day.

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.

they say blood is thicker than water but haven't they heard
of ichor?

ichor;
the deep felling within, when you sense that something may
go wrong but let's set that thought aside because you don't know
what happens when the blood boils of gods and goddesses
or when the hues of gold and silver yearn for solitude as they
transform into something new; more precious, more expensive.
falling from the slick blade of a hero, poison to any mortal. but us-
humans- are wicked. if that blade falls into our palms, we'd corrupt
the world by spilling ichor for our mutual misunderstandings. so
we let ichor fall back into history- a curse for the reader- hoping one day that it'll fall into innocent hands so that once again,
unleashed from it's chains, would come Hade's hounds coming
to get you.

Meet me one day in the inky black shadow
when the ground is speckled with the sprinkling of the glaring flow
to bathe ourselves into warmth with the sacred, shining, golden ichor.

The sky burst its vein on the jagged peaks on the horizon,
so let us cherish its blood
and lay on our backs among the buds
until we wizen
in the flood.

you spite the gods
because who else would dare do such a thing.

you spite the gods
because nothing makes you feel more alive
then to imagine what their ire feels off.

my jaws crave to gnaw / but i’m terrified of the bite / terrified what it will mean to us / so i’m sinking my teeth into my own arm / knowing this is how someone will find me one day / with the white of my tooth scraping at the white of my bone /

my teeth - crooked spaced out teeth - drip blood marrow / and gold / when i pull them out / it feels like ******* all the bad blood out / leeching out my overgrown veins / and you call it ichor / like i’m some sort of god / like i’m some sort of god to you / and it makes me ache i could be that to someone / to you /

people like me better when i’m nice / adjective adjective adjective of all the ways i’m better do nothing but mix cocktails of hurt / i’ve seen it in the eyes of girls just waiting to go home / people like me when i’m nice / just enough to make them smile with their teeth - straight white teeth /

and i like me better when i’m nice / call it human nature but i’m still naming it teenage mistakes while i’m here / trying to make my smile straight on camera when my lips are tilted just so / what angle makes me sweetest / my teeth the goldest /

drop dead gorgeous, a girl to die for
hot headed taurus anthropomorphic ichor