Enlightening DarknessIn the beginning there had been nothing but a void of blackness. His father had crawled from it's primordial womb centuries before his coming and then had returned a century afterwards. The fae had been vicious in the claiming of their world for their precious light, even whilst his father’s kingdom had held its dominion and the sun had not ever been drawn from its place in the outlands of space, they had fought. His father's body had been destroyed in the fray by those loathsome creatures with their crudely crafted weapons and their chaotic magic.Enlightening Darkness by grimseeker123
They ground his horns and bled him, mixing the blood and powder and painting it over their bodies, as they burnt what remained of him they called the sun from its initial place. It cleaved the night in two as it drifted, following their command, he could still remember the way the dark mother had howled at the utter violation. He, every goblin, and lesser imp could feel the flame from the gaseous mass as it seemed her star strewn stoma
AnxietyI will cut you out of me, Cancer,Anxiety by grimseeker123
Scrape you off every last sinew in my gut with the sharp end of a gardening trowel,
Because you try to take everything I have,
Everything that makes me happy,
And every person.
I love them.
I love them all!
I love them all and I won’t let you hurt them!
I’ll cut you out,
All the lumpy, pale, afterbirth-covered-in-blood, parts of you,
And I’ll put them in the ground,
Because you’ve poisoned me long enough.
You’ve crushed me into a little ball like an overzealous child with a small animal:
It has been years,
And you have tried to squeeze everything out of me.
This is my happiness,
And I’m digging in my heels and sinking the blade,
Because you can’t have any of it.
UntitledThe grass is tender and new beneath my feet.Untitled by grimseeker123
The full moon is fat with a harvest smile, as she reclines in her sky.
The carpet is rife with stars and I can smell my aspirations on the pregnant wind.
Where does it come from, my potential?
I wonder if my future even exists.
If it isn’t waiting for me to drift up and lift the cover off of its box,
Like a pair of shoes at the end of a factory journey: waiting.
I have crossed into womanhood where the field’s grass meets the supple turf of my backyard,
and I hardly feel the difference.
Futures are fickle creatures like that,
Or warning noise,
Or dragging claws,
Until the second were it is on you, and you, you the proud owner of the brand new meaning,
Must divine the message of a few briefly presented stones.
Things like love, health, and companionship are so brilliantly now,
You can’t see beyond the veil of their afterglow.
You have no idea whether or not those things you hold so close, so dear, are fraying.