“But Fairyland is an old place, and old things have strange hungers.”
— Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making (via roseirani)
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nITe Reflection for w0rkIng gIrls
My sleep become the TrüTh 0v your nIghTmare,
I am nod in the sl0th you harvested at their festival.
I feed my baby spoiled seeds of HER freedom coated in mud,
And lick the lethal trauma from your oldest would.
A wITCH is a girl who escaped the false family that lies bound her soul to.
My only libation is made of tears
you cried when you found out your mom didn’t cum,
When your dad plowed her to provide for his frail flesh.
My Back Magic Miɿɿoɿ remembers she wished for an abortion,
But delivered you to your daddy
to please the weak boss above them.
leviathan is a hurricane in your parent’s dreams of settling a garden,
drowning your family in the confession you sing me.
Gn0 I was the Stranger who taught you the gl@m0urs
That protected you from the mortal bureaucracy of repressed desires.