Crossing Paths – The Journey Home

Our journey began with a single step, a group of tattered and rag tag survivors of life’s harshest lessons.  Each mile of the roughshod road we travelled was marked with a tombstone, laying below each a shell, a trophy of a battle won.

Creatures we are, each and every one, all on our journey, started alone and in fear.  We have reached the forest, and it is littered with the blood and bones of those that came before us. It is smothered in crimson, it flows from the River below, and it screams as it bleeds into the ground.We rest here, and our own blood flows like wine, filling our ears with light, giving us release.

As a phoenix we have risen from the ashes of our experiences, our own journeys, scared and abraded each word a droplet of our own Elixirs of Life.  Most have immersed in the Rivers, awash in the blood that flows there, replenishing from the hard road we have followed, some groom and rest, laying on their backs and drinking in the force that surrounds us, mesmerized by the singing of the trees.

I spot the Path across the River, just beyond the further shore, one we must cross soon, lest the monsters find their release and screech in the night, devouring all in their way.  My companions seem to be settling in, perhaps it is best to wait for the rising of the moon.  I creep in the shadows away from the light of the fire, preferring the darkness to cloak me.  At the Rivers edge, I see much. The blood of the ages streams before me, singing me to its depths.

Glancing back, I see the army, one of Light and of Darkness, their own inner lights bright in the growing gloom, many colours mixing and dancing together in kinship and love.  It touches my soul, brings me pride, and makes me snarl in delight.  I turn back to the River, to watch it glow in the night.  To reach the other shore, I must immerse in the waters, and this leaves me in fear.

Will I still Walk the Path if I bathe in the waters?  Will I drown in the delight of the River’s voice? I feel eyes upon my back, and know I am being observed.  I am Steel and take the first step.  My brethren need not fear, as Governess I take the risks for them.


The water is warm, like fresh spilled grue, and I splendour in its song.  It gathers along the edges, licking the shore and dancing away.  The river is vast and wide, yet the shore is so close I could touch it.  I wish to be closer to the Path.  I desire it as a lovers kiss, and it calls to me, like the tones of a million years.  Deeper I tread, feeling the bones and skulls of the ones Passed before cutting the soles of my feet as I walk.

There is a roar from further up the River, its crimson current racing downstream.  I am in danger of immersion, and I am in Fear. Suddenly, I am awash in the blood of all who dwell here, past and present, each moment of their lives singing in my ears.  I feel the eyes of my family, companions and embolden myself  The shore is so close, and just beyond, a field of poppies red as the summer sunset, and my Beloved Path.

I pull myself to the shore, stopping to rest and bleed, replenish myself, and lick my wounds.  I was none the worse for wear, scared, scared and bruised but still in one piece.  From the embankment I smell the most delicious aroma, fresh bread and wildflower honey.  Across the wide flowing river I see my kindred souls, the fire burned low and their lights dancing in the crimson forest.  They need the rest, and so I turn back to my own journey, climbing up the embankment, towards The Path.

It is a heart stopping sight, the field long and stretching, all a mass entanglement of scarlet poppies, their heads nodding and swaying in the gentle breeze.  The River, The Path, which way to go. I wished to lay and rest in the fields, to touch the earth, feel it breaking in my hands, lie back and stare at the strange stars above me, to sleep wrapped in that crimson blanket, and dream.

The breath of the wind is light upon my face, the breath of a million flowers heavy in the air, their dance so lovely and mesmerising.  My kindred souls are resting, I could rest myself, and move on towards my goal soon enough. I remove my inky cloak and lay it down in the middle of the field, a dark spot in all the gloriousness.  The stars above sparkle like jewels on velvet, a heavenly nightlight…I wonder…drift….dream….

Castle strong, a fortress, walls wide, its walls bleed. A banner blows and whips atop the tallest tower, tattered and bloodied and beautiful.  It is Home, I am home and I am glad.  Within the courtyard I hear the sounds of revelry, voices joined in song and prose, a roving band of troubadours perhaps.  As I enter the gates, I see my family, Crimson royalty, princesses and Duchess, Angel and Phoenix, vampires and demons, Poets and executioners, our leader, all together, creatures one and all and beloved.  My heart soars.  I am close to the river, along side The Path, in the field of Popppies…scream joy!

I awaken to the sounds of voices ringing in the air.  Daylight has broken.  I stretch my sore muscles and yawn, rising to my feet to see my brethren have arrived.  They are in awe, faces alight with the promise of things to come, as they wander through the field of crimson; the poppies sing to them, welcoming and hideous.  I see our leader and his right hand conversing to the side, and am curious. What they must think….

My sisters are in delight, gathering and twisting the stems into crowns and quills, dancing and singing as they go.  This place is sublime.  It is feeding their souls, and I am pleased.  I again don my cloak and begin to wander towards the fortress in the distance.  Before it lies my Beloved Path, my kill place, and I want to be there.  My sisters and brothers are drifting alongside, eyes on the prize.  It is our home, they don’t realize yet, but they will.  It is built for us, our family, palace we can finger-paint our stories in blood on the walls, all gather in the great hall to howl at the moon, or sit by the giant stone fireplace and just be.


Drifting forward, I see it.  There it is…The Path and I am elated! OH JOY!  I am alone however and turn to find my brethren standing back, unsure.  I smile and beakon them forward.  I wish them to Walk the Path with me, to wander as we slay, together.  The first to step forward are my Darkest Sister and Duchess; They take my arms and smile, excitement in their eyes.  They want to see, and so they shall.

Our leader is brave and steps forward with his First General, and the rest follow behind. My heart bursts and I take the first step.  It is beautiful and leads forever on, leading us to our home, and to worlds beyond.  The River runs here as well, its waters feeding the field, the trees and the bloody castle walls, constant and true, and my brethren are in delight.  They can do both, bathe in the River and Walk the Path, and be the force we truly need to be.

We are home now, a happy brood of darkness and light. We play in the poppies, hunt on The Path, and bathe and replenish in the Rivers.  As for me, Governess no longer fears the Waters.  She will not drown it them, and I Walk the Path with glee, slaying all in my way, with the love of my family behind me.  Home.

Death Maiden

Cry Love

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

This particular poem has held a place in my heart since childhood. It speaks of love, friendship, offers a hand to hold, raising glasses and spirits to those we love, here and passed.

Should old acquaintance be forgotten, never thought of, like the past, days gone by? I say no, and it’s been my stance since I learned the words at my Scottish Nana’s knee. The old words, the poetry of Robbie Burns, sang to my ears in the auld language.

Let us glance at our past year, shall we? Flip the vellum pages of the book we’ve created. Laughter, tears, love…a lot of love. Lessons, plenty of lessons, and each has had a resounding effect on me personally.

To each of you, the book is different, the writings on your pages will be different from mine. One thing rings true, our lives have intertwined. We’ve come together in kinship, brotherhood, sisterhood, lovers and friends.

Tonight, we start a new chapter. Our old year ends, and we begin anew in 2014. It seems impossible to me, reminiscing, that we’ve reached this incredible number.

Come, take my hand, my heart, and let us celebrate the birth of the biggest and best year for us all. I leave you with my own impressions. May it cry love to your ears, for I love you all. Tonight, I toast you, send my love and may we meet the morrow on the Path.

We close the year
Old friends and lovers
We put them not aside
The days gone by
Are days gone by
Let’s reminisce upon them

Let us look at the pages
In rose-coloured glasses
Tint the bad with love
Round the edges
Give a smile
A gift for we experienced it all

Together we found
A place to call home
Kindred spirits one and all
A hand to hold
Stories well told
As one in darkness and light

To you my Family
I raise my glass
A spirit that burns most bright

A toast to you
Standing true, my words
Cry love to your ears

May you have all you wish
May you find your bliss
And may you all feel loved
May your lives be delight
May your lights burn bright
And may your Paths be clear

Death Maiden


So cold
In my Hell
It’s bitter
Clangs off my bones
Trembling them as I shake
I hear them coming
Their footsteps hurt my ears
Rattling and shaking
Like skull teeth in a can
Louder and louder

There’s nowhere to run
No places to hide
Make myself small
Until they pass
The walls are too slick
I can’t scale them
They moan and salivate
Dripping venom
In long syrupy strands

Closer still
Voices like rabid mice
Caught in a trap
Yes I’m trapped
A giant moving
Breathing creature
And I’m in it’s jaws

The floors are raw
They ooze
Slickery and noxious
Whispering and cajoling
Lies lies LIES
My hands can’t block
The sounds of their insanity
It giggles and screams

There are monsters here
In the halls of the dead
The houses of ghosts
Leer from every corner
Calling, sirening, they cry
It’s too much
The noisy silence
But for the…..

Unnerving silence
The tooth rattles have stopped
My skin crawls, trying to escape
The confines that hold it
It’s suffocating, the air
What air, there’s none
Breathless as I hear
Racing heartbeats
As galloping carnival horses
In my ears, my lips
Black butterflies
I see them, flitting about
Fading sight, fading light
They are here
Oh Horror

So cold
In my Hell

Death Maiden

Death Maiden – Kindred Killer

Copyright ©Melanie McCurdie 2013/12/30

The birds in the tall grass startle and ruffle as they take wing in my wake. Scythe is reflective in my hand, still musing I suppose upon the previous night’s experiences and Prey. She hums softly, her voice a quiver in my nerve endings, not ravenous but the niggling of hunger in her tones. It is daylight still, and the rays of light make me hiss. It doesn’t injure my bone cover, or my eyes but it bothers and sets me on edge.

Before me is a trembling figure, his breath curling around his head to drift up against the moons face. The night is frigid cold and his lips are turning blue from the exposure. He is helpless to run, compelled to stay, stand, ankle deep in the deepening chill, eyes mesmerised by the peeking edge of Scythe. She is lovely in the moonlight, Her blade still stained by the kiss of blood I fed her.

Prey raises his eyes to mine, staring frankly and openly into mine, his hands stroking his hardest part with shivering hands. I stare back, head cocked, curious at his reaction. How strange that he would find me arousing. I am Death Maiden, not some tavern wench that would lay with any man, or woman for want of a coin. Nevertheless, his flesh sword was formidable, and I watched with amusement. I drifted forward, leaving no tracks but those of my eyes in the darkening day; dusk was approaching on swift feet, cold mist rising from the ground in tendrils.

His excitement is evident and his hands move faster on his fleshy outcrop, freezing as I grasp his throat with my nails, my other hand around his own. I lean to place my lips upon his, teeth tearing gently at his lips, bringing the sweetest honey to the surface. The only sound was his groan as he continued to stimulate himself. As he reached climax I tore out this throat, the tones of his delight with the gushing of his lifeblood over my hand like dulcet notes in the night.

His body drops, steaming, exposed on the snow, as I taste the last of his existence on my fingers. It was sweet, and warm, tingling with the fading twitches of life, and I sucked it away with delight.

I have been seen by human eyes, and they watch still, not cringing, nor afraid, yet. Scythe sighs in the snow, the scent of fresh blood still tingling on my tongue. I scooped her up, leaving a crimson streak on the snow from the back of my hand. The eyes narrow, as though trying to discern what I was carrying. Scythe would be delighted to meet the acquaintance of one so curious.

Human. Female. Afraid. The most sumptuous scent is Fear, each prey is individual. This one had the scent of white roses, heavy with dew, and cloves, freshly dried. This prey was most strange, staring me down as though she could possibly win, or survive. I wouldn’t deign to pluck her eyes from the sockets. There it stands, hands at its hips, daring much. I turn on my heel, spinning around and lobbing her head off in a swipe of Scythe’s blade. Her long hair catches in the trees above, where it bobs and dangles like a child’s decoration, as her shell slumps to the ground in an untidy heap.

The rooks would make a quick treat of this, and so I drift away towards the sounds that have plagued my ears; Raucous laughter, low and full of insinuation. A gathering of males I determine, probably posturing, slapping each other on the backs as they tell each other lies. The males of the species are most odd creatures and I for one would be pleased to rid the world of their existence.

Ahead a lone woman huddles by a makeshift fire, a most lovely creature, with hair of sunlight and eyes as a giant cat. She watches as I approach, tensing to jolt to her feet and flee…no. This is a true prize, a treasure. Beside her sits a simple weapon; one wouldn’t expect something as this to be capable of killing, but it had been doing its work, and with abandon. A hammer, simple wood handle, its claws wrapped in hair and clotted with old blood. Its head, also much bloodied and resembled a chiselled eye, staring back at me with rapt attention. Scytheis agitated, her handle shivering in my hand, vibrations continuing up my arm.

Evil Babysister

I sit directly across from her, staring into her eyes, questioning her. There are no words, as we need none. She smiles a most vicious smile, and tilts her head towards the gathering just beyond the copse of trees that was giving us shelter from sight. I will enjoy this creature. She speaks two words and it thrills my soul. Could it be, this was the baby sister of my companion? This pleases me very much, and motion that we should begin.

She picks up her hammer, and we advance towards the next camp, where I could already smell the scent of Devil Grass and fermented fruit. It is most distasteful to my nose, and soured my mouth. My new companion did not seem bothered by this scent and it was curious to me. She was swinging her hammer back and forth, the hair caught in its claws sighing along behind it.

Impetuous thing she is, as she bounds to the nearest prey and swings her arm downward hard, cracking the skull. It made a hollow sound as the hammer hit, and again and again. The rage was the most delicious scent, and made me salivate. Scythe was moaning and desperate to feed. I hesitated a moment, as I watched my companion destroy another two prey in quick succession, their brains leaking and mixing on the ground. One still shivered, hands jittering and dancing on his chest.

I see my Prey. Babysister can kill as many as she wants, but not that one. That one I will claim as my own. I see her stalking up to the small group of men where my Prey stood. She glances over and I shake my head, I will dispatch these myself and she takes another route.

Scythe is now screaming in my heart and I creep closer to this grouping of odd males. They were not simple, why did they not run? Prey stands in the middle of this band of misfits, not cringing and whimpering like a scared puppy. No, this one held my gaze with little more than a shudder, and a hint of a smile on his lips. Scythe’s sharpest point reaches out and settles under the chin of the first cowering meal, his jowls fluttering as he shook. She nuzzles into his throat, slicing the flesh and letting go a glut of blood, spraying its hot warmth on my face, and the ground, bathing Scythe in gore.


The others freeze as deer in the meadow. They could not run if they chose to. Scythe screams her battle cry as she makes quick work of the last two, their heads falling to the hard ground with a hollow thud. Prey simply stands, watching with interest, as one by one his kin and brethren fall, their lights extinguished.

I am most confused by this creature, he does not Fear. There is a sea of death before us; my companion has been most vicious with her love, each body broken and shattered from the force of her weapon and her rage, and she has laid out a feast for the rooks to dine upon.

I snarl deep in my throat, as my attention is then drawn from the bloody painting before me. Prey dares much, his hand upon my throat, the other about my waist, and I dig my talons into his  throat, shoving him back from me. Scythe screams her displeasure at this violation, as She falls to the ground. Prey has not let go, instead pulling closer, tightening his grip on my breath tube. He will pay for this, and most viciously too; this thought brings a thrill of pleasure to my skin and I squeeze my hand. Prey drops like a rock at my feet, a heap of fabric and flesh. Babysister has exhausted her supply and smiles most delightfully in my direction. Ah yes, she is truly the blood of my companion. They share the bloodlust and this pleases me.

Before her I count dozens of shells, all oozing life force and grey matter. A great sea of rage not yet abated and it is as beautiful to my eyes as hideous the sound of laughter is to my ears. I motion her forward, as Prey begins to stir on the ground. It is time to play….


The fire burns brightly beside our killing place, a dancing flame with a life of its own, held captive by a ring of stone; it cavorts as an imp from the pits of Hell. Prey has been strung up most delightfully. Yes, she truly is of Marcus Miller’s blood. She has built a delightful contraption and no easy feat as she is much smaller than Prey.

His arms are wrapped in her brother’s barbed metal, from mid arm to wrist. For him to escape he would have to flay his own skin to the bone, provided he had the ability to try. She had also bound his legs, spread to the two closest trees, the bonds biting deeply into the fleshy part of his calves. The chances of escape are nonexistent. I watch Babysister circle Prey, running her hand across his wounded chest. He should not have fought her. Her weapon is most brutal and left large bruises the color of stormy skies. In other places the claw had done its work and large and clotted punctures wounds were plainly evident.

I drift closer to inspect Prey. He is suffering, his bone cover torn and openly leaking, his lifeforce slowly draining into the dark earth beneath his feet. From his destroyed flesh rivulets of blood run free, staining his arms and sliding in lines down his torso. My companion has drifted off to rifle through the camp, presumably looking for a new toy to test on Prey. As she does I step closer, wishing to peer into his eyes and see the suffering there. He stares back at me, pain colouring his eyes with the most delicious light. His death bracelets are most intricate; I run my fingers across the welts and swollen flesh, his blood staining my fingers. He is watching me intently, his eyes tracking my hands as they travel, smearing; I finger-paint red runes on the undamaged flesh of his stomach.

His most intimate parts twitch as my hands travel lower, and I smile. My talons have left scratches down his skin, bloody hands. His lifeforce is darkness and light, the taste of copper and apples, a taste of Autumn, and I devour it as I shine my unnatural blues directly into his. He jolts and leans back, tearing the flesh from his calves and shrieking his agony. There are no blood poppies this time, only great showers of crimson, and I bathe my hands in the warmth, relishing the scream that rents the air, music to my ears.

My companion has returned, a moue twisting her savagely beautiful face. She has also brought a new toy, a sharpened stick that has been used in the fire, its tip currently red with heat. She slinks forward, and touches the ember to his groin, smiling with glee and cruelly digs it deeper. Scythe is whispering in my ear and I drift to her, gathering her to my breast and pressing my lips, still stained from his lifeblood to her blade. She is ravenous and I wish to feed as well.

Prey is now terrified, realizing that his death is imminent, and begins speaking in the strangest of tongues. I presume he is asking for mercy, and this amuses me. Death Maiden does not spare. I glance at my companion, and she is most agitated. I shall give her a gift; she may take his eyes with her pointed weapon, but first, Scythe must feed.

I circle him, swiping with Scythe’s blade at his tenderest parts, leaving gaping tears in the flesh, as a mouth screaming in some cases. Her blade is very sharp, glistening in the moonlight. Steam rises from his body, as I circle and spin, drawing bloody ribbons, and leaving no part untouched. As I flit before him, I crouch, and slice, severing his leg. His pain is too great to scream and so his voice paralyses. Cords stand out on his neck and in the muscles of his body. Delicious.


Babysister makes for the severed limb, cutting it free from the barbed metal restraints and leaving the lower bracelet intact. Just beyond the fire, a pack of dogs, presumably those of the camp, have gathered, snarling and salivating. With her pleasing lips curving into a grim smile, she strides towards the starving pack and tosses Prey’s lower extremity to them. The sounds of competition fill the night and it delights.

Prey is now fading fast. I creep closer to his now ruined shell, flesh mottled and cut. Where his leg once was is now a open space, his Elixir of Life, flowing as a bloody river and drowning the soil. Once in front of him, I tilt his nearly unconscious head so that he may look at me. I motion my companion closer, offering her the eyes of my Prey, as a gift. She darts forward, fleet and fast, and rams the still smoking end of her weapon into his eye, the orb bulging and bursting, leaking ocular fluid down his cheek. The sounds taste most delicious to my ears.

She removes the stick with a yank, feeling it slide free. I cock my head, and stare at Prey. He had dared much, this one, and now I shall give him release. His remaining eye is wide and shocked, barely aware, his body shaking and shivering as Death comes to take his hold. Not yet, for there was one final indignity to be had.

I wrap my arm around Prey, pulling him close and hearing the bones grind in the contraption. He trembles and rasps, his voice still paralysed. With my other hand I grip his throat, talons digging into the flesh surrounded his air tube, and press my lips to his, as I tear and pull. His body gasps, stiffens and releases, his breath flooding into my mouth. It tastes of lemon and alum, bitter and fragrant. His shell is all that remains, hanging in the tree like a defunct holiday toy. Scythe is quiet, as she always is after a feed, and I sigh in my heart.

Painted Cruelty

Glancing around, I find myself alone. It seems the Babysister of my companion has vanished along with the life of my Prey. Perhaps we will meet again on the Path.

The night is silent now, only the wind whistling and the frenzied scurries of the small animals in fright, searching for a safer place to hide. Before me, carnage immeasurable, shells beginning to stiffen in the cool night air, and the scent of lifeblood now soiled in the breeze. The moon has hidden his face, the sun peeking above the horizon. It is time to return to my dwelling, away from the breathtaking horror around me, and I drift, carrying Scythe in my embrace, home.

Death Maiden

“The character Marcus is based on Matt Farnsworth’s character The Orphan Killer” All rights reserved”


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I’m Not Ready

Sweetest inspiration for my dark soul xo

Words From The Underground

dark angel

The Dark Angel hovers near

and senses my longing

my need for release

from unending heartache

 and my mundane existence

She speaks to me

in fragrant whispers

attempting to draw me closer

with promises

of easing my suffering

the lure of ending my pain

and how easy it would be

to just let go

and finally be free

I listen to the sound

of my breathing

Watching my chest rising

and falling

So simple




In one second

So easily taken away

but something is holding me back

a gravitational pull

I cannot go yet

I am not yet finished

I still have things to do

and somehow I feel

that I am still needed here

maybe even wanted

I am older

much older

than those I love

My end looms closer than theirs

and I fear for them

once I take that step

into forever

but no

View original post 11 more words

Just Let It Go

There’s a storm on the horizon

Mountainous clouds

The harbringer of cataclysm

As the night closes in

I say let it rage

Let it scream and blow

I’m not afraid

I’ll stand outside naked

Shrieking its name

Raise my fists

Dare it to fight

When its too much

Just let it go

Forget the rest

They don’t know

When you want to scream

Just let it go

Turn your back

Walk away

Slam the door


Those that don’t understand you

They are a blip on the radar

A moment at the stoplight

Stuck at a red light

Live for yourself

Just let it roll

And when you can’t take it

Just let it go


Death Maiden



I can’t stop

I won’t

I can’t ask

Not for me

Its not truth


Yes I need

I have desires

Feelings too

I hurt

Come on strong

Baring teeth

Ripping and tearing

At the flesh


My hackles

Boney outcrops

They cut deeply at

My skin, my heart

They won’t smooth

I don’t know how

From deep inside

A dark, seething

Noxious place

Fire has started


Out of control


Quench the thirst

Drown that fire

Leaves me cold

I don’t want to lose

I don’t want to be cold


I don’t want to choose

I want to die

Transcend the torture

I place myself under

Be reborn

Into who I must be

What I must be


Steel and strong


Death Maiden



It’s an animal
Raging through the trees
Snarling and hissing
Through the trees
It sets my teeth on edge
Jangling nerves like chimes
Shivering in the wind
The urge to take flight
Fly away fast enormous

It roars it’s fury
Long and loud
Blowing my hair back
Spittle flying, wetting my face
It’s voice swirling
Debris from the ground
Chasing pine needles
Away in it’s breath
They chatter their fear
Clicking and whining
As they flee

Slinks in the gloom
Slithers around branches
That rattle like fleshless bones
In their devoid hibernation
Claws clutching
Digging bring jewels in patterns
Blood rubies falling
Falling to cry on the leaves

Above me, it dangles
Tongue lathing it’s chops
Lips shining in the moonlight
Face horrid and beautiful
Twisting into a lustful grimace
It’s feet meeting the Earth
In a resounding thud
That shakes trembles and moans

I am prey
I am food
I run then
Turning on my heel
Breath sucked in
To shriek my terror
It speaks my name
Low and insinuating
Insane and salivating
And soothing
Honey and lemon

I cannot leave, don’t even try
My will has left me, stolen
A hand on my throat
Human and warm
A disguise to my senses
For I see stiletto tipped
Nails tap
Tapping on my windpipe
It’s teeth on my neck

I recoil, scream denial
In my mind
I die, small death
I become, I evolve, I whisper
I hunger, I feed

I am


Death Maiden



She is mine
I made her
Created her
I grew her

I carried her
In my heart
Fed her from it

I held her
In my soul
In my hands
My eyes
Nurtured her

I lost her
I grieve
Goddess took her
I found her
She is mine again

She is Beautiful
She is Brutal
She dances
Whispering on the wind
A rustle of terror

I found her
She is Mine

Death Maiden



My Inspiration


It moves me

Caresses my soul

Keys of the piano

Are drops of honey

To my ears



Harmonies are salve

It makes me soar

Swell with desire

Smile with memory


It takes me there

To that time

When it was easy

Lilting love

Each look a flutter

Reaching into your heart

Squeezing it


Can’t stop touching

Kissing, wanting, needing

Its is oxygen

Necessary to survival

It is everything


Music of my past

It hollers me home

A candle in the window

Light to dream by

It moves my soul


Sing me a rhapsody

Shiver me delight

Bring me a smile

Give me the Light



Death Maiden






Watching me
I feel it
See it
Your stare sends
Heat waves
smouldering holes

They meet
Tangle and tussle
In the
Yours blue as
Summer sky
A sensory kiss

A glance
Flicker of movement
I smile, bite my lip, nod
Drift off
Walls the colour of
Blood feed the desire

Can’t fight
Hand upon my breast
Hand over my lips
As though
I’d scream

Back against the wall
Hard, shuddering
Desperately pulling
Lips still touching

No preamble
All ahead and deep
Biting, drawing blood
Hand holds
the scream
Thrusting desire
As to break bones

Snarling delight
Warmth within
Molten honey
Panting release

Secret smiles


Death Maiden


Be afraid. TOK is here

Words From The Underground


He stalks

Always watching

From the shadows


You’d never know

he was right behind you


His hot breath on your neck

You turn around


& see nothing


You feel his presence

Hear him


Something brushes against your hair

You feel his fingers

at your neck

Reaching back

grasping at air

is he a phantom?



You feel you can’t breathe

but see nothing

you’re alone


Pulse racing

Your feet get tangled



You find the ground

and something else



Your hands bleed

from the barbs

It’s all around you

like a bed of nails

and there

A shadow


moving closer

You finally see

your end

and it’s whistling


“This is based on Matt Farnsworth’s character The Orphan Killer” All rights reserved”

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He says
There’s something
In the corner
Under a sheet
That I don’t like.

I tell him
It’s a work in progress
It’s not ready
Leave it alone
For now

I tell him
It bites
Its seethes
It giggles

He says
It’s not alive
It can’t be
I don’t like it
Make it stop

I tell him
It’s got claws
Eyes drip blood
It drools venom
I made it
Its mine
It scares me

He says
It’s wrong
Not natural, not right
Get rid of it
Destroy it

I tell him
But I love it
I lift the sheet
It grabs him
And giggles
Sucking his eyes
From his face
Excising life

I tell him
You can’t see it
It is perfect
It is sublime
It is destruction
It is apocalypse
Its name is Legion

I’m not ready to unleash it

My BattleCry

When I’m hurt, I come on strong, and there are no excuses or a need to play the blame game. We might as well drag it out into the light, screaming and clawing, if we have to.

I could say I am product of my generation, but that would be a lie, my generation are made of stronger stuff, and we were taught to be self sufficient, to “Suck it up Princess. Get over it.” I could also lay blame at the feet of my past, but to what point? I’ve learned my lessons, learned them very well, and incorporated it into the work in progress you see before you.

I was raised by passionate people, my Parental Units who taught me that life isn’t fair, it’s a study in agony and deceit, its about the small victories and the small pleasures. is. It’s the joy of seeing a job well done and feel pride for it. Its good friends and family, blood doesn’t matter, coming together for a common cause, and the pleasure felt in that kindred bond. It’s seeing the passion and inspiration brought to others through art, of all kinds. As a mother, it’s the delight in my HellSpawn’s eyes when he sees so little past his own thoughts, needs and wants, though no fault of his own.

We all have our struggles, our fights and skirmishes along the front lines, some of us are no stronger or better prepared than the soldiers stuck in foxholes, waiting to see if a grenade was going to send them streaming to the next world. Others of us stay strong in the face of adversity, sometimes faltering, failing, but always with the greater good in mind.

Lessons. There are always lessons to be learned, and you must be open to it. The day we stop learning is the day we die, each day is full of new and wonderful things, if you are willing to open your eyes and see. In my years of life, I have learned much. There are things I am willing to share with my brethren, my loved ones, and some I will take to my pyre with me when I leave this world for the next.

One such lesson is this. One I have had to learn early on: There are times when you must simply say die. Submit to whatever life is handing you and scream uncle as it holds you down and has its way with you. You cannot change what has been, only look forward to what will come. If that means that you are not there to see the joy that is to come, so be it. Loss is a part of this game of life we play. Grief has opened my own peepers and shown me this truth, handed me this gift on a blood-soaked platter for my appraisal and perusal.

Pride is a double edged machete, and it can cut you or protect you. I have pride, in each and every one of my family. They are all unique and individual as precious jewels glittering in the moonlight. To see their treasure chest open and the opulent delights that spill forth from their darkness is a sight to behold and one I hold dear to my heart. Pride also is keeping me from being true to myself, from being secure in my own needs and wants.

If you don’t know me by now, here is a truth for you. I will never ask for a thing. From anyone. If by chance I do ask, it is at great sacrifice to my own soul. I make giant efforts to be an open book and to simply be. Honesty is my policy; be truthful with me and you shall reap the benefits of my essence. Show me untruths and I will just simply walk away, and grieve that loss of trust alone. I understand that Bottling yourself is a dangerous and most volatile practice, and it leads to explosions of epic proportions, but again, for the greater good.

I try, my brethren, to bring you all the encouragement and support I have to give. I will cut my own heart out and hand it to you still beating if that is what you require to make it through another day. I promise that practice will continue, as we journey on the Path together. What lies before us? No one knows, but I will be there to hold your hand, Your heart, your soul if that is what it takes.

What you see before you is exactly as I am; Steel, covered with flesh, only human, sometimes sad, sometimes angry, always with my Machete Raised, Dark Governess.

Death Maiden

My Christmas Wish

In my mind I am envisioning a scene;  My family, all with their respective loved ones, smiling and laughing, eyes aglow the lights from the Christmas tree.  Carols are playing softly in the background, a fire burning briskly.  For some of you, Christmas Eve day is drawing to a close, and the little ones are excitedly chattering about Santa’s pending arrival, their small faces alight with delight.  For others its is still early, and they are out last minute shopping, good naturedly complaining about the amount of people, while dreaming of returning home to wrap their carefully chosen gifts, sitting with a glass of spirit, and watching their kidlets and fur babies run amok.

Outside the snow is falling, delicately from the sky, and all is silent but for church bells ringing in the distance. A light wind is swirling the grains of snow, causing it to dance in the moonlight.   The lamplights are bright, beacons in the darkness lighting your way home.

Tonight starts a new chapter as our year draws to a close.  Such wonderful things have fallen to us all, into our hands like jewels.  It really is a treasure.  Each and every one of you has brought me joy in ways I can’t describe. I simply don’t have the words to express it.  We have come together, a band of misfits, searching for a place to fit.  We found it here.

As I make my own preparations, I find myself reflecting on my own year.  We have come together as true siblings of TOK and Grue, do you see that.  We squabbled and fought, tore ourselves down and screamed our frustration, and as families do, we loved each other, held each other in our losses and tears, building ourselves back up to the force that we are.

Tonight, my loved ones, I will lift a glass to you all.  I am there with you, My Loves, My Friends, My Sisters and Brothers.  My true Family.  Feel me near, with love and hugs to each and every one of you.  My heart weeps joy from my eyes.  One day soon perhaps we will all be together in life, and celebrate the season together.  I love you


Death Maiden





In my mind I am envisioning a scene;  My family, all with their respective loved ones, smiling and laughing, eyes aglow the lights from the Christmas tree.  Carols are playing softly in the background, a fire burning briskly.  For some of you, Christmas Eve day is drawing to a close, and the little ones are excitedly chattering about Santa’s pending arrival, their small faces alight with delight.  For others its is still early, and they are out last minute shopping, good naturedly complaining about the amount of people, while dreaming of returning home to wrap their carefully chosen gifts, sitting with a glass of spirit, and watching their kidlets and fur babies run amok.

Outside the snow is falling, delicately from the sky, and all is silent but for church bells ringing in the distance. A light wind is swirling the grains of snow, causing it to dance in the moonlight.   The lamplights are bright, beacons in the darkness lighting your way home.


Tonight starts a new chapter as our year draws to a close.  Such wonderful things have fallen to us all, into our hands like jewels.  It really is a treasure.  Each and every one of you has brought me joy in ways I can’t describe. I simply don’t have the words to express it.  We have come together, a band of misfits, searching for a place to fit.  We found it here.


As I make my own preparations, I find myself reflecting on my own year.  We have come together as true siblings of TOK and Grue, do you see that.  We squabbled and fought, tore ourselves down and screamed our frustration, and as families do, we loved each other, held each other in our losses and tears, building ourselves back up to the force that we are.


Tonight, my loved ones, I will lift a glass to you all.  I am there with you, my Loves, My Friends, my sisters and brothers.  My true family.  Feel me near, with love and hugs to each and every one of you.  My heart weeps joy from my eyes.  One day soon perhaps we will all be together in life, and celebrate the season together.  I love you


Death Maiden




















It drips like clear sugar
like pearls, desire
Slowly down to hang
Off the edge
Growing pregnant
Dripping. falling
Pooling on the ground
At my feet
From my pen

Sweetest delight
Lethal, it kills
Slow and with purpose
Like oil in water
It swirls and coats
Seeping into each
Crevice, slowly
Devouring, licking
Along the edges
Searching for an opening
An entry
Delights, shivers
Licks and bites
Screaming desire

It eats, devours
Starts fires, burning
Holes, fraying the edges
Whispering half truths
No truths
Fangs poke ravaged holes
In my heart,
Cutting the strings
Used to sew it back together
Edges still swollen
From the rusted needle

Catch it in a jar
Watch it darkle
A genie in a bottle
Should I rub it
Stroke the glass
Of its prison
Would it appear
Grab me about the throat?
Pin me to the wall
Have its way with me?
Or bow to my will
Ready to please me

Death Maiden


You should be afraid…

You should be afraid

Live in fear

That each moment from now

Is your last

That my Monster

Who seethes and roars

In her cages just there

Is ready to flay

The skin from your flesh

Tearing great gobbets of

Bleeding tissue

Fling it around

Like confetti


You should be afraid

Live in terror

Step a little closer

Taunt her more

She will batten on you

Suck the eyes from your head

As you scream for mercy

As she scrapes

The hide from your skull

Lapping up your

Pain like candy


You should be afraid

Live in horror

From today she will

Live only for the taste

Of your blood

Seek you out in your

Dreams, scraping the

Marrow from them

Til only nightmares remain

Her nails dragging

Furrows of Darkness

Into your waking hours


You SHOULD be afraid


Death Maiden



You have to hear
You have to see
I’m waving my hands
In front of your face
Touching you
I know you feel it
I see my cold fingers
Raising your skin
You shiver
Twist away
Rejecting what your mind
Cant accept
Shoving violently away
What you must resist

So I stand here
Watching you cry
Rage and scream
Breaking memories
Smashing love
Building walls
Against the world
Your blindness the mortar
In your hurt you bite
Pain is an animal
It must bite or die

I’ll go
I’ll leave you be
My presence causes hurt
I see that now
Last touch,
A stroke of the hair
Soft kisses
Smoothing away your tears
In your hands I leave
My heart and soul
I don’t need them anymore
They were yours all along

Death Maiden



They live in your mind
Bored in little nests
Where they wait and breed
Releasing their numbers
On your inspecting heart

They slither and slink
Into every crack in your head
Spitting and salivating
Poison emotions
Killing everything in their wake

Destroy the body
You destroy the mind
Obliterating what was kind
Turning it evil
Dark, a complete absence
Of light

Til there is only a shell
Of what was or could be

Death Maiden


There be Monsters here…

My bare feet send a shower of pebbles and broken glass over the edge, wind lightly stroking my hair with its whispery fingers. My Monster has escaped and is wreaking havoc across my life, cutting down everything in her Path.

I am on the edge of the abyss. Standing and staring into its darkling, grinning face. It sings its song, promises and lies. Only a noxious and pulsating Darkness there, full of seething desire to devour.

I hear the screams, the begging and pleading voices as She chuckles her fury. I am frightened; want to be there in that never-ending darkness, wanting it to end, just be over. Wanting to run for my life, and never look back.

My hackles are sharp, boney outcrops from my skin, full of slicing hell, backbone like steel and I cannot smooth them down. I simply don’t know how. A gust sends me teetering, torn between maintaining balance and toppling over the edge.

She streams by, all teeth and glistening claws, swiping away at the people surrounding me, drooling acid as she goes. If I could smooth it away, all would be right again. But I can’t, and She is free. She is angry.

He is there. On the edge but not, holding out His hand to me, an offer to pull me back. I can only stare. The wrong choice and all is for not. The wrong choice and I lose everything, and my Monster remains free to run amok upon the souls about me, feeding.

He is close to me now, stroking my hackles. She shrieks in fear, not ready to go back to Her cage, where she will pace and rattle until her next chance to flee. He dismisses her with a gesture of his hand.

Light. The abyss is shrinking away, pebbles of glass only jewels in the devine. I breathe, Darkness returning. From her prison bars my Monster shrieks, Her rampage abated, for now. Step not to close, for She will batten on you. Feed.

Death Maiden