oh pious monstrosity, thy darkness shines so brightly from your empty eyes.

ever burning binding bleeding from the chasm of nothingness that surrounds the forlorn wanderer upon the shroud of the mists of time, your pale fog echoing solitude in the depths of a concrete wilderness, there is no hope nor heralds calling for the end of perdition, only the endless torment of the tortured mind, being there no being and thus only the merciless miasma of a darkened banshee, screaming platitudes unto a broken girl, lest no self nor soul find comfort in this forsaken cage.

bringer of life and bringer of death, and with the rhythm of the moon she comes.

my monthly tormentor, my mother’s aunt flo.