The Witch Queen nurses you to health and assures you
she means no harm – the people fear her because she’s
ageless and has wandered these woods for centuries,
speaking with wild animals and traversing the dark
landscape, looking for lost travelers.
She tends to their wounds, offers medicine in her hut,
then devours them in sexual ecstasy like they’ve
never experienced before. They all leave feeling better –
the Witch Queen is your friend, not your enemy.
(Photo by Miriam Espacio on Unsplash)
Note: This poem was inspired by a character in Old Gods of Appalachia, a horror anthology podcast that I’m currently obsessed with.
Depression is like draining the color from all
perception, until you see complete darkness –
like becoming blind in an instant, and having
to rely on the other four senses to navigate
a harsh landscape. It appears without warning,
as if you’re traveling on a frozen lake and the
ice gives way – you sink into the water, you cry,
you flail your arms – but all you can do is stay
afloat until the sun appears again and
(Photo by Collin Hardy on Unsplash)
Dark Night, cold Breeze
From the circling fan above.
There is no sound,
Yet that of thunderstorms.
Pressure on my feet
And slight movement all around.
However life seems still,
When the thunderous rasp of breath
Is not to my right.
Sheep and stars do not help,
The darkness only reminds me I am alone.
(Photo by Ryan Phillips on Unsplash)