Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole.
The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with the sweetest rot. I met my ache there. My eyes became jewel-red pomegranate seeds. My tongue sharpened and split so I could better taste the salt on the horned one’s skin, and my limbs grew long and lank like a limber birch. I was ancient mayhem housed in the soft skin of a storyteller. I was a living song of chaos and craving. A bride to the beast, I was, and a beyond-human longing to merge with the primordial infinite, I had.
I pressed my bare back against an oak and howled the land to life. I called every seed to sprout and every egg to crack. My heart-drum beat in a rhythm so old only the elementals remembered the way of my muse, and I was desire embodied. I was witch. I was where the agony of tension met the joy of release. I was the spirit of every small death and the wild memory of every bloody birth.
The dance was dancing me then, and I surrendered.
I sang the old one to me. I gathered the slow-creeping ivy and wove that horned creature a beauteous braid from the strands of deep time. I wed past to future to present, memory to will to transmutation. I sang, and I wove. I sang, and I wove, all while the moon matched my ripening need. My craft met the moment and invisible hands tugged at the edges of my strange tapestry. I heard disembodied voices singing with me, and I saw them then, these resurrected dwellers of the underground forest, these subterranean hags with afterbirth-caked hair and gold-flecked crystalline teeth. Crawling up from the depths, they were. Coming to join me in my lust, these beloveds. We shared the same appetite for the poetic obscene, you see, and I was not alone in my yearning to dance with that older-than-ancient vixen called wonder.
Oh, lover! The horned hunter was right there then, shapeshifting from beast to beauty, elder to youth, sacred to profane. My peculiar coven and I presented our gift, this tapestry of time, and that god called the land stood strong inside our circle. We crawled to and through that once-and-future spirit. Civilizations rose and fell during our ceremony of becoming, and we swallowed the hallowed one whole over and over again. We came, and we became. We were a writhing spell of destruction and renewal, and we merged with things that cannot be named. We knew the truest divinity here, and we let the pulse of eternal ecstasy have its way with us while our flesh fell from our bones and stretched itself new again. We were the all meeting one and the one meeting all.
Together, we were a many-bodied prayer to erotic undoing and rethreading. We were a bone-and-blood altar to this, the earthly season of honey-tongued resurrection. When our dance was done, we slept tangled in time, wrapped well in our ivy-woven tapestry, melting into the strange braid of all things that ever were and would be.
When I woke, lover, I was only here with you, but the memory of that wild rite is fresh in my mind, so best ready your will for the springtime majesty of a witch in heat.
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Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole. The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with […] -
Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole. The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with […] -
Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole. The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with […]
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Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole. The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with […] -
Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole. The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with […]
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