/'mad-nes/
noun
1. i forgot i had fists today. my heart decided to be vicious warrior. punch after punch, does it seek a glory? i'm washing my hands, they shine like red sunsets when I first found paradise.
Am i a murderer? or did i **** all my thoughts in self defence?
2. angels are talking behind my ear. they don't sound like the cruel laughter i know. they never leave (everyone always does) should i call this love a lie? for the first time I think I could be holy.
i almost smile.
3. my lips are full of ruby lies. smooth criminal dancing in forgotten light, put on a trail for breaking. for hurting, yesterday i tried to burn my mind, i left three bodies fading behind my back (all were mine mine mine) forgive me father for leaving those marks. mother says heaven doesn't want me anymore.

It's strange how your childhood sort of feels like forever. Then suddenly your sixteen and the world becomes an hour glass and your watching the sand pile up at the wrong end. And your thinking about how when you were just a kid, your heartbeat was like a kick drum at a rick concert, and now it's just a time bomb slowly ticking out. And it's sad. And you want to forget about dying, but mostly you just want to forget about saying goodbye.

Flowers bloom in my lungs, white like a frost-covered morning, their roots weave intricate walls around my heart, protecting it. But although they look pretty, I find I cannot breathe. The white suddenly seems more like a freshly cleaned gravestone, and the roots choke my heart in a cage lined with needlepoint thorns. The bright flowers once blooming in my lungs are now a wilted bouquet clutched in sweaty hands watered by salty tears.

Flowers bloom in my lungs white like a frost covered morning, their roots weave intricate walls around my heart protecting it. But although they look pretty, I find I cannot breathe. the white suddenly seems more like fresh gravestones and the roots choke my heart in a thorn lined cage.

Maybe that boy just wanted a taste of the sun.

They tell me I'm fussy; with lovers, with books, with music. I tell them that I would rather freeze than be barely-warm. I tell them that if it doesn't set me on fire, then no thank you, I don't want it. It's taken me years to confess that I would rather be alone than settle. The truth is, I cannot stand the taste of in-betweens. Half- measures will never be a part of me. If it cannot fill me up to the brim, I don't want it. I will only ever be empty or overflowing and I'm okay with it. And they say, girl, how do you think a wildfire starts? From a spark. Relationships need kindling. And I cannot make them understand than I am not afraid to build on things, to work hard and relentlessly on something, but I must stop apologising for the fact that, truth be told, I cannot seem to want a love that does not engulf me. Someone once told me that when you've tasted fire, you ache for it, no matter how badly it burned your tongue. They weren't wrong.

Maybe Icarus knew what he was doing all along.

/'god / es/
noun
1. you know what it is to be holy. deep veins filled with ichor ache for wounds the earth feels, lightning storms and hurricane pain walking hand in hand across a ground you helped design. the thousand voices that scream your name in both battle chant and song. their lives are not a game but you play anyway.
2. you are sharp edged steel. a lone fragment of a shattered mirror, the broken bone reflection of a cruel smile. all that you are is ripped edges and cracked glass but your heart still throbs with lioness blood.
3. ichor drips from your fingertips, gold glistens on your lips. you took to power like Icarus took to the sky and you know your fall will be just as sweet.

/pes/ti/lince/
noun
1. we are little gods unto ourselves. locust-eaters, fire-bleeders, laughing wicked boys with figs in our pockets and honey-stained mouths. we ride on our white horses through villages that will be nothing but the ashes of the sick once we leave.
2. our laughter tastes like victory. you can't help but stare, we look so holy glowing in the light. go on, tell us how we are beautiful, ghost- like, how our skin reeks of thunder, how you make love to us and feel your body turning inside out with fever. how you are so hungry to give up your soul one sickness at a time. go on, surrender.
3. we wear crowns given, not taken. take life instead of giving it. we sweep through villages like contagion, and we always conquer. conquer, conquer.
goddess