when his parents cast him out
and left him in the forest
Edgar was not at all upset
in fact, he thanked them for it
He never wanted to be like them
living in doubt and regret
So when Ezelda took him in
he happily began to forget
Edgar was now, a son of a witch
and he was happy for it
for he had once lived a normal life
and had grown quickly to abhor it
His new life was filled with magick
and on nature’s breast he nourished
in his new life as a son of a witch
Edgar quickly flourished
a reblog of a poem written in 2015
How wicked of a thought must you have to jostle a mind already organically filled with evil?
What is your terrible longing?
Piercing butterflies to save and study beauty you will never possess?
Plucking feathers from wee birds because you will never fly?
The truth is no matter how much you ply yourself with alcohol and other forms of courage I will always call your bluff.
You hit me in the face with your fistful of bad words but just what do you think you shall inflict on me with your vulgarity?
You are as threatening as a damp sweatshirt.
I am not afraid of you.
my pain multiplies
memories divide me
is my innateness a welcome addition?
does my otherness subtract from my intrinsic value?
my family was f*ucked up to the 9th power
is my father the square root?
do you know, what is the sum of me?
Another murdered midnight
under a starless sky
The words between us hang heavy
like the weight of the secrets we keep
Love is a cruel deception
for creatures such as we,
living in perpetual drought
If I could only tell you the toll it takes
being one of your lost causes
I hate it, though neither of us is innocent
The truth echoes among us
When I close my eyes the red rope tightens
I think of all the things we do in the dark
the silence sings as the rain starts
today i wondered
if joy tastes like a peach…
would it tickle my tongue with it’s fuzzy skin?
would it dribble happiness down my chin?
“To judge from the notions expounded by theologians, one must conclude that God created most men simply with a view to crowding hell.”
— Marquis de Sade