The Problems of Witches
One of my hobbies is astral projection, meditating, magic and the like. But, recently I haven't been able to do this because I've been losing track of reality, again. This started during a time of forced isolation. It was part of my training in magic but... well... it went on longer than it should've and I started going insane. I hear voices and see things. They um, are sometimes real and at other times figments of my imagination. I test them. I ask them things I don't know the answer to. Sometimes they get flustered and begin arguing with me. At other times they answet with a question. And still more often, I convince myself that my mind could come up with that answer on its own. It probably can too. The mind has power.
I have thought about giving up all together, but I've had so many experiences which brought me back from the edge and I know forcing my brain to think without arguing with itself is pretty useless, so I don't. I just sort of wait until I have a time where I can't sense things at the edges of the subconscious. I wait until I know the earth is holding me firm. Even so, I get lost. I loose track of time. I loose track of sleep. I mix dreams and reality. I mix characters in books with Gods, demons and the people I see in front of me. I am supposed to be a witch. I am supposed to have fun near Halloween. All that happened this year with the parting of the veil was me having to delegate more energy to keeping up my mental barriers. I can't have random spirits contacting me in the middle of school, it's just not practical. So here I am, a magician, set to graduate top of their class who can't tell if they imagined every piece of magic they've ever done.
Stomped out ash
Stifled, burning embers extinguished, spark-less, lifeless and caged
We wither away, rotting, rotting like we too are being consumed
By more than what life has thrown, by a society igniting matches
Then shouting down that we burn too brightly, stomp him out, make her cease
Fire that cannot be controlled shall be removed, taken elsewhere
To burn through centuries of kindling in far away places
And the government, they hope the smoke never seeps home
That all that remains is dust, stomped down so deep we forget what it felt like
To briefly be burning, alight, consumed by more than cast away decay
But even specks sparkle in sunlight, if the wind wafts in just right
We may float, illuminated by the source of all heat
Remembering what we could be, before the boot crushed us beneath it.
Ashes to ashes, flame begets flame, suppressing fires only makes the burn
Uncontrolled, unceasing like how one may yearn
Simply to live untethered to social niceties, to clocks
That yield and rank us too much, always creating shocks
At how young a fire can be, how kindling doesn’t need a century’s suppression
As youth carries with it one’s first oppression, the boot’s first footprint.
To say that this thing, this beast, this dark force, a shadow lurking in every darkness was older than time would not be accurate. Before time, there was not a before. Yet, the Old Soul exists there. Time has a beginning. Perhaps it will have an end and yet another beginning, but the beast does not care. For it exists separated from time.
In the absence of anything, it thrives. It tries to breach our world, to drive mankind to a sort of madness. Just try to imagine an atheistic afterlife. Thinking of nothing brings you closest to shadow, to darkness. Those who think too hard on the topic graze the fringes of this Old Soul, this beast. They touch madness and are driven, in pain, toward it. The Old Soul consumes a part of them.
It can touch, only, the things that have no substance. It is infinite, because there is no infinity. It is silence and stillness. It is emptiness and abyss. It feeds on the lonely and lost for their lack of a thing. Every outline encircles it, and every blank stare pulls at it, bringing it closer to reality.
To fight this Old Soul, the only thing one can do is fill their life with as much substance as they can. One day, despite it all, the Old Soul comes, and it will not consume you, but will thrive on the lack of you. So, weaken it. Fight it with love and music, and your favourite things. Keeping yourself occupied feeds it with neglect. It will be satiated until the day it is not. Such is life, to an Old Soul.
Erased Beasts
Heart dented
Agonal hiccups
Reverb laden shivers
Give stereophonic birth pangs
Beware the insolent monster
Who won’t even stalk
My frazzled frame
Daddy watches the shuddering collision
Damaged satellite
Cognitive runoff
Tragic fossils
Dug up for a facetious laugh.
The avalanche fallout erases reality’s wobbly stand.
My loose eyeball is dried ruscus
From 1987’s merciless withering.
Lucky me.
All That You Knew
All that you knew.... atomic theory
Natural Science.... Dialectics...
Meant nothing
Quantum Theory...Religion...
Viking History... Charlemagne..
Hannibal....French History...
Meant Nothing
American History...Great Art...
Lovecraft...Occultist Ways...
Meant Nothing
Metallurgy...Aquatic Science...
Life Science... Darwinism...
Meant Nothing
Physics... Monotremes...
Meant Nothing
All that you knew...of God
Meant Everything.
All That You Knew.
Of Human Bondage
Can you savor the ice cream base...
That gratifying pill...
That was shot from the depths of some catacomb
To arrive upon your windowsill?...
It's not everyday you'll taste it's delights...
One must pay their tithing and alms...
Do the Humanoid Shuffle,
And the Automaton Jig!...
In an incongruous tangle
Be the straight as arrow sprig
That arises without tell tale
Of the world's endemic flaws...
Your love extends like an olive branch
Without purpose...without cause...
Like the Count of Monte Cristo
One gets tarnished by the quest
In attempts to settle debts,
And even stabilize old books...
Don't let the deception drive you...
While the rest bank on their looks
Make a bee-line for the counters,
And the mass production trays...
Don a safety mask, and goggles!...
You'll be occupied all day!...
Beat yourself like a raw square peg,
As nervous red runs at top speeds
Down the walls of your gratuity
Into the gutters of the Beast...
Where the sounds of gnashing teeth, and the
Suckling from heaved bones
Become a backdrop aura that is aped,
And normalized to fit your home!...
Do the Humanoid Shuffle,
And the Automaton Jig!...
In an incongruous tangle
Be the straight as arrow sprig
That arises without tell tale
Of the world's endemic flaws...
Your love extends like an olive branch
Without purpose...without cause...
10/16/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #2
A Very Long Rant For Making People Angry
Dear god,
I wish you were real, but the dangers coming from your people contradict everything you stand for.
What of the crusades? Couldn't they have been stopped? Only one of them was won. Maybe that is how your disapproval has been shown. But still, most christians I know hate me. I used to be one of them. I hated people like me, all in the name of serving you. I just didn't realize what it meant to be different.
I remember my parents telling me nose piercings were a sin. They said that people should be satisfied with blending in. They said that we should want to disapear, to give our souls up to the lord. And that anyone who wanted to be unique could face the fiery river at the end of the world.
Now I am one of those people. I am a person who chooses not to blend in, who chooses to question your undeniable words written in tongues of old. I have chosen to question these things because no one deserves to burn for what they believe in. No one deserves to burn for who they are. No one deserves to have their life taken for a piercing or tattoo. Now that I'm older, I see just how rooted in prejudice and racism those ideas were. You said Jesus came down to give grace to all people, that no one was exempt. Well, I choose to exempt myself. I don't want to stand by those who draw a line in the sand, deciding who is good and who is evil. Nothing is that simple. But, neither do I want to forget the lessons I learned in church of gratitude and acceptance. Never mind, I do. Because when I wanted to tell the world how much my mom hurt me, my uncle came up to me and said, "This is not what Christ would want you to do. Just accept it. Just be grateful for what you have." I almost threw him off the roof. Did he think Christ would want me to sit and watch as my life was taken from me one freedom at a time. Would he want me to live in the shadows, never daring to escape because of the fear I lived in everyday? Do you want me, your own child, to suffer? Just so someone like my mom can continue unpunished.
I didn't used to think there was evil in this world. Now, I know there is. I wish I didn't, but I do. I wish you existed, but you don't. I wish there was some salvation, but there isn't. There is only me. There is only one person to help me out of a rut and that is me. I wish it wasn't that way, but it is. I stopped begging. I stopped asking for your help. It never came. I'm not Jobe. I give up.
