The Heart Grove and Wesley's History With the Devil Herself

One day after a sunset stroll, I lost myself in the forest behind my grandparent's house. I walked through the land for hours, guided gently by pale moonlight, in circles I suppose, for I was utterly incapable of retracing my steps back to the comfort of my grandmother's sweet cherry turnovers and the smell of my grandfather's cigars.

It was midnight when I came upon a row of delicately planted trees, the likes of which I had never seen before and which had, upon further inspection, pure white bark, and not a single leaf to be found on any branch, nor the ground below them. I thought to myself that the trees were too polite and civilized to be a natural part of the sprawling, untamed wild. They had to be raised by a hand of culture, someone had to plant them neatly like that and care for them. I was so awed by their peculiarity that it took some time before I noticed the hearts.

From the branches they dangled like grotesque ornaments from almost invisible strands of string in the dark autumn air. Their stiff severed veins and arteries were red and repulsive. But oddly, they were also aesthetically pleasing, as they were elegantly arranged, as if whomever had hung them intended them to be the most beautiful display of their craft and talent.

I was more intrigued than horrified by the hanging organs, so I walked along the row to examine them in more detail, to discover that each and every tree was in fact adorned with dozens of human hearts. I had passed exactly one hundred and twenty one trees when the strange grove came to an end. I paused and looked at the one hundred and twenty first when I noticed from one of the lower branches that there was a heart still beating!

Blood was still being pumped out of the thing, and when I went closer for a better look, I heard a rush and a rustling in the brush behind me. I turned to see what sort of creature I had scared off, but instead of seeing a deer or a rabbit, I saw a black hooded figure running away from my presence. I was just about to run in after the person when Wesley, the ancient grounds keeper of the neighbor's land caught me by the arm.

"You can't go after her, Maxine! She'll kill you and all that'll be left is one of them ghastly hearts, hanging from one of these god awful trees. Now come along now child, your grandparents are worried about you. Ruth said it's not like you to ever miss her cherry turnover and now its all gone!"

With that, Wesley led me out of the woods, back to a familiar trail and back to my grandparent's front doorstep. My grandfather came out and thanked him for bringing me back home. Wesley told him "Your welcome" and my grandfather stepped back inside. Wesley started walking back to his own house, while he sang a song just loud enough so I could hear its lyrics:

"Hearts hang from trees

ornaments

she earned from her

red lip mascara massacre

her burlesque hex

And she did her snake dance

to entrance people

who didn't know

that they served the beast

in high heels a harlot

She'll make you kiss

her razor blade lips

pearly white teeth

engaged in the pulse

of your neck.

She'll have your heart

Hey nonny,

she'll have your heart"

By Me!!

Rock Thief

Something in his soul I need
more than I deserve
I'll only know when I travel below

Though I didn't mean to be blood-born
trouble's daughter
I was offered a cup of bad business
I had to slake the thirst of the life she gave me
so I drank the devil's water

And as I sipped I could hear
the distant beating,
the pounding

A sound like the smash slam
of a gavel in the hand
of damning manic shame
named naked judgement
with his sentence:

cement sentiment
for epochs of shaded gradient
youth life
marked by periods
of blacks, greys and pale blues
so I could reflect
in broken glass
of many hues
something
multi faceted
like myself
shining
alluring
unlike myself;
and precious to my heart temptation
beyond any help

I stole diamonds
born, pressed and cracked
from the coal of his soul

My black fingerprints
were the evidence

The Good Little Witch and the Want

Twisting around the back bends
of what you like
I'd serve you through means
like dragons to give you
seduction
sounds
to tell you,
I will--
I am

slipping you
the glances
that could mean a novel
of desire + affinity
or childlike play

But instead of dolls,
there would be beating hearts
played out like marble
marvels in my fists

I just wanted your smile
tinged with levity
pure sweet magick

For it is witchcraft
that marks my motive
the craft that carves out
the unshaped clay of possibility

I want my own little world
of dulcet love scenes, of solitude and footsteps
that eat the history of my path...
and my French ancestors
who knew how to ferment
in their minds the lust drink of universal want

I want it all
and my all to be a temple
holy beautiful golden
with foundations beyond fiber + material,
foundations of the ethereal essence of..

of..
you.

Little Sister

Photos I took of Maddy, my little sis

A little bit about me

If I Were..
If I were a month, I’d be October.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Friday.
If I were a time of day, I’d be sunset.
If I were a planet, I’d be Mars.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a pygmy marmoset.
If I were a direction, I’d be West.
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a bed.
If I were a liquid, I’d be mulled wine.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a pearl.
If I were a tree, I’d be a palm tree.
If I were a tool, I’d be a paintbrush.
If I were a flower, I’d be a poppy.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be gentle sunshine.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a pipa.
If I were a color, I’d be cranberry.
If I were an emotion, I’d be wanderlust.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a pomegranate.
If I were a sound, I’d be a music box.
If I were an element, I’d be Neon.
If I were a car, I’d be an Mustang.
If I were a food, I’d be strawberry shortcake.
If I were a place, I’d be the ocean.
If I were a material, I’d be silk.
If I were a taste, I’d taste like cinnamon sugar.
If I were a scent, I’d be egyptian musk.
If I were an object, I’d be the dancer in a jewelry box.
If I were a body part, I’d be hands.
If I were a facial expression, I’d be content.
If I were a song, I’d be Aqueous Transmission-Incubus.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be ballet slippers.

Hello, my name is Nikola, expect wondrous things here. Maybe!