Amid the rubble
Of four dim millennia peeled back
A square of carved steatite lay
Lifted
Gently as a gossamer hope
To reveal
That mythic beast
A single horn curving
From its striated head
Whose fame reached Grecian ears
From Indus bed
Across miles & years
Leaving an inkmark murmur

Villain. You have stolen my grace.

When I poise myself to smile and simper, your bitter shadow fills my mouth and makes me shudder.
When I ascend the steps to my royal quarters, I trip on the memory of your presence by my side.
When I lay in bed, artfully sprawled across the velvet sheet, your forceful weight crushes my limbs and my lungs.
When my eyelids flutter shut, intent on transporting me to dream-land, all I see is your divine, ethereal face.
When I fall in love, I am eager to forget and begin anew with my sweet knight in disguise, but your crestfallen expression slows my pace.

I may be free of you and your enchantment, your enthralling spell, but by the gods, Villain - I couldn't protect it all, and so you have stolen my grace.

In the forest late one summer day,
between the trees and prams,
a sweet girl whistled a small tune
that made the rabbits dance.

They danced and hopped and frinked about
and it was all quite nice
until the Wankerschmacken came
and brought a plague of Braifs.

The Braifs, they danced and frinked as well
and grew and grew in size
until they grew to twelve feet tall
much to the girl’s surprise.

The Wankerschmacken watched with glee,
with joyous hate and hunger,
the rabbits, the girl, they were confused
as they stared down the Schmacken’s flanger.
The flanger was his mouth, of course,
filled with teeth like daggers,
and the beast lunged after the poor girl
who through the forest yaggered.

She yaggered and ran and over a root
she suddenly fell and cried;
The Wankerschmacken took his chance
and this is how she died:

The monster opened its flanger large,
its throat was charcoal black;
A blue tongue stretched and grabbed the girl
and hurled her into its depths.

She fell for an eternity,
she seemed to fall for years;
And in its stomach she cried and cried
and drowned in her own tears.

A century has come and gone
since this cold-blooded ****
but if you put your ear to the woods
you can hear the Schmacken still.

It snores and roars deep in its sleep;
Can you smell its rotten breath?
but once you do it is too late –

You will die a vicious death.

In a tragic of despair
that she could espy of something unseen
but what I know now in the nowhereness of triumph is the oblivion that’s long forsaken . My mother, the earth , has loved the truth of my words . My mother of memories, where my intricate roots embedded in her many wombs , with her,
my mother who is the mind to my soul, with her crystal teeth, puncturing the veins of my spirit, I am uncured from the illness of illusion.
with the love that is filled with the sickness of the cerebral ;
that every nerves, they only now yearn to forget, to erase, to delete,
what should never end , will ;
of those forward to ,
is like catching light,
my mother's arms, wrapping my dead body,
for that great freedom that ought demands
but now encountered swords that I see no farther onward impulse stirr'd,
from every dew-drop in this sequestered heart.
it inculpates the soul’s wigwam,
to love , that is unpure
powered of perception ;
for me , do so as what say I
the abyss will never know -- without noise, bad field of unfamiliarity, to create the creation of layers, layers of spectre, phantasm, apparition;
I exorcise & exterminate this being of nothingness, name that is uncelebrated ; & be merrily skipping in their long farewell,
you gave your face , I gave mine
& there shall be a bow of
hypothesis, musings, mirage

I inject, dementia
trying responsibly to digest over
my own ignis fatuus
/
there will be hanging gardens
the commotion of untendered bones
down beneath your cloaks,
knowing sympathy, to bully an empathy
death come, came & in repeat
through the lullaby of Antioch,
sorrow wholly unexpected, in scarcely discernable; but far descried
black winged demon vanished through the chested barrier of feelings, when justice lynchings in the centre of my core,

twixt vows, where from descended upon myself alone, indecent, in deep scrutiny —

“hello, my name is solar.
weird name, right?
i grew up in heaven,
it was really beautiful,
everyone dressed in white,
being happy,
flying with their white,
feathery, soft,
wings.

i’m different.
dark purple hair,
a few strands of white and black,
long hair.
black angel wings,
elf ears (as a child),
devil eyes,
wolf ears and tail.
i’m exactly what you think i am,
a monster.

i grew up with mostly white hair,
a few strands of black,
and an ombré from white to purple,
elf ears,
soft angel wings tinted grey.
i was adorable.
i was the queens daughter,
my father however,
the king of the underground nation,
known as hell.

12 years old.
so many bad things happened.

i was in bed, falling asleep,
i was carried onto a bench,
normal so far until,
i felt my limbs being chained down.
he was on me.
my father ***** me that night.  

i fell emotionless after that.

8 months later,
my baby boy
came earlier than expected.

thomas.
his name was thomas.
my baby thomas.
my thomas.
my son thomas.

i get banished from heaven the next year, leaving my son with my mother
she adored him
i found out i had an older brother

my brothers name is shadow
he’s great,
so caring, loving,
he helped me when i needed

2 years later
i’m 15
i visit my son after 3 years,
it’s his 3rd birthday.
i walk up the stairs to my mother’s
upstairs loft
i reach halfway,
i see my father,
throwing something.

thomas,

he’s throwing my baby
thomas into the fire.

i ran up the stairs, jumping into the fire to save my baby boy.

he’s gone.
ashes
everywhere.

where is my little boy?

i get pulled out.
i heal imedietly due to my “power.”

i’m sobbing.
i feel the kicks and punches hitting me.
i look up,
i’m on the floor, all i can see is red.
my father, standing their with his
blood soaked claws.

i sit myself up, trembling.
my neck, cut deeply
my arms, scratched so severely
my legs, bleeding
my white dress, was required to be worn
as the “princess of heaven/angels,” stained blood red.

i crawl to the edge of the land of heaven, staring down at my home, earth

i suddenly feel a kick.
i’ve been kicked down to earth,
i watch as heaven drifts further away from me.

it’s been 4 years.
i’m 19 now.
i visit my son in hell’s dungeon.
i’ve met my little sister.”

I found the Fountain of Youth.
I’ll tell you where it is:
It’s been inside you all along.
Now enjoy your life, and live.

I sell my soul
for a pre-made bed
I give myself whole
for a sleeping spot in your head

I give my blood
for sacrifical purposes
I crawl through mud
til I no longer feel the worthlessness

I shed my fears
and all my dark feathers too
I spill them like tears
They fall of my leafs like new day dew

I pull out all my flowers
and plant them close to you
they will grow and become towers
which can only hold things that are true

And as my demons come for my lungs and liver
my hive heart will send all my bees
so these towers never wither
and this love never leaves