Clemence St. Mallory

Patron Saint of the Besotted

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

And so are pants

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

Well I think the historians lied

I don’t think Medusa killed with her eyes

What more do such men fear

Than being slain by their own sword

And still 2000 years later

I hear what a pity

The hearts she’ll break

With her wild hair

The boys she’ll snare

It isn’t their fault

Women kill

[drowning-in-webnovel-chapters]

[little-pondhead]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

Holy water

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

[clemence-saint-mallory]

Oh hello there, who’s this?

I am not supposed to hear such things

I’d like if you returned your thoughts

Every last one of yours out of my brain

But I guess

Hold on,

I, I, I heard everything

And I promised I wanted it all gone

But

I’ll keep the memory of

the jay,

And

Thinking being in the cold

Would make you appreciate your own warmth

For intruding where I don’t belong

So they. The two. Belong.

[clemence-saint-mallory]

Fantasia at The Vaults, London