“I want to be a demon,” the Nephilim said, “Even if I have to barter my wings for horns and a tail. I want to be a demon.” The priest furrowed his brow as he heard the confession, "Your lineage is half Divine, why would you give that up to be beyond the reach of redemption?” “Because demons have fun. They enjoy their existence. Not all about duty and sacrifice. If that’s my only legacy, then my duty to myself is to sacrif...
Go away, fuck off, back to your bunker.It has no title,but understanding is vital.Stop.Here’s the poem: I saw somebody.She was beautiful.An energy that didn’t fit,yet she owned it. I found outshe likes to twist and shout.But does she like ...? Her polar is bi,she thinks she can flyand of course she can. She doesn’t need fixing.Let her bebecause she is me. I am serenity.
Perhaps just the way that you said itPerhaps it was just what I heardPerhaps what you meantWas not what you saidOr I just read into your words Why must it be so confusing?Why can’t we say what we mean?Or when we doWe don’t recognize truthAnd imagine it some other way Sometimes I’m tired of listeningTo things that are said in my headIf I take face valueWhen I’m talking to you What are chances that I’ll be misled? So promi...
These stories told and told across the agesare listened to and tell of times when gods and mighty kings and queensdabbled with our ordinary lives.These stories come from fading memoriestrying to remember what was true.Some were sung by poetswho made versions of their ownand passed them on as history.What matters thoughis what we hear beyond the words, what tingles as we listen,what throbs when we are toldof rages, jealous...
