BIBLE BOOK CLUB

✟ [18+] ✟ 𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖎, 𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖎, 𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖆 𝖘𝖆𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖎? • • • • • a blasphemous, irreverent, obscene, unholy perspective • all faiths welcome • share poetry, art, fanfic, rambles, thoughts, and show ~penitence~ in Confession 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢: 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔞𝔠𝔰 Personal account @vvictuss

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢: 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔞𝔠𝔰

Welcome to today’s worship services, dear child <3

••• Before you join us, please take a second to read through these commandments •••

This blog is STRICTLY 18+. We may discuss sexual or disturbing content. Please do not interact if you are a minor.

All faiths are welcome — including Christians and Catholics. However, disrespect directed at others will not be tolerated, from worshippers OR heretics. This is a blog to share and push the boundaries of art, as well as dive deep into the Bible to highlight darker or taboo subjects it contains.

We do not condone any immoral actions discussed here. If you are uncomfortable, block and move on — exploring dark topics in media does not equal support or encouragement. “…He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone…” [John 8:7]

HailMary is pro-LGBTQ+ and anti racist. Harassment or bigotry will NOT be tolerated.

PLEASE feel free to submit art, writing, and general asks <3 it’s my favorite thing about this blog!!

••• Topics and Content Warnings •••

Discussion posts may include mentions of:

Sexual assault/rape

Various incest dynamics

Mass death, murder, illness, catastrophic events

Pedophilia

Slavery

Body horror

SH and suicide

Hardcore kink/fetish

••• Tags •••

#lamentations for my original posts in general

#creation of adam for my original art

# word of god for my poetry/prose/stories

#hailmary confessions for other’s submitted art, writing, and more

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

STEP ONE // feed the friends you've made

Sick-sweet mock sugar prostrate on the altar.

I don’t believe in the existence of a roaming trickster, and I don't believe its palms could be benevolent.

For good measure, dragged in ash, runes from a crow’s desperate call and the cracking hammer of a freezing God leave another offering on the precipice.

You bite the hand, because it’s my blood that feeds you.

Sugar fills the honeybees and needled beaks of hummingbirds.

I consider a sharps box as an alluring flower-red feeder hung under the sink, for myself and the doormat insects below.

All that’s come from this is hungry trickster eyes and the rape of my solid ground.

Deities making ugly, indulgent feasts, violating like a fish, belly exposed to the knife.

She invites the guests --

I lay with an open chest flowing with sweets, sugar water, and bitten hands.

≿ ━━━━ ━━━━༺​✟༻━━━━ ━━━━ ≾

FLIES ON THE WALL - a work in progress poetry/art chapbook

if i could see myself like they did, consumed by decay. if i could taste my own tired flesh, eat through the soft tissues, and become a home to something more than myself. if i could love like rot does.

[iloveitwhenuhurtme]

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

I want to want nothing.

Wouldn't it be nice?

To close my eyes and only see black.

≿ ━━━━ ━━━━༺​✟༻━━━━ ━━━━ ≾

FLIES ON THE WALL - a work in progress poetry/art chapbook

if i could see myself like they did, consumed by decay. if i could taste my own tired flesh, eat through the soft tissues, and become a home to something more than myself. if i could love like rot does.

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

#3, in which my hand holds a knife

We’ll stay here, forever.

Like an oasis.

You can come back to me, away from the light.

Hide our bodies from the world and remain unsoiled. Together, infinitely yours, and you, mine.

I can't fall in her arms like she asks.

Extended and offering the fruit plush,

I see it like a lure. Can’t touch, can't trust.

Do you love me? Want me?

My safety is sharp, hers soft

My words are soft, hers sharp.

She doesn't know I prepared for the fight.

Don't drag me to the eyes.

Let us fall and rot together, sink into the floor, soil the carpet and drip through into a home kept secret.

≿ ━━━━ ━━━━༺​✟༻━━━━ ━━━━ ≾

FLIES ON THE WALL - a work in progress poetry/art chapbook

if i could see myself like they did, consumed by decay. if i could taste my own tired flesh, eat through the soft tissues, and become a home to something more than myself. if i could love like rot does.

#2, in which i hang the sheets

#5, in which i drink the blood

#7, in which we reflect, somewhere safe

prayer, the first

the eyes on a botfly

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

prayer, the first

Dear God,

I’m begging for something.

I don't know what. My face is unwelcome to itself.

So I beg, and beg again, and I no longer remember what I beg for.

Something wishes it would die inside, and another wishes it would die ouside.

If what is taken away I cannot give up, then I know what I beg for again.

For the love of fucking Christ, amen.

≿ ━━━━ ━━━━༺​✟༻━━━━ ━━━━ ≾

FLIES ON THE WALL - a work in progress poetry/art chapbook

if i could see myself like they did, consumed by decay. if i could taste my own tired flesh, eat through the soft tissues, and become a home to something more than myself. if i could love like rot does.

#5, in which i drink the blood

#2, in which i hang the sheets

the eyes on a botfly

#7, in which we reflect, somewhere safe

[artisafeeling]

Butcher Shop Bliss

-Esther Sarto

[concreteroses]

I have found divinity in alley ways,

and salvation next to death.

Both disturbed me the point of quiet self redemption.

[let-me-suffer]

Unholy Chapel

You come to me bare,

showing me your bodies,

your trembling wants

as if I were an unholy chapel,

a velvet confession booth

for the damned and desirous.

Your voices quake like prayer,

wet with guilt and need,

spilling your guts

as if shame were holy water

and I,

a mother cradling her grotesque creation,

rocked your sins to sleep.

Every secret you bleed

becomes another hymn

in the church of what we are

sacred,

sick,

and seen.

[insuvi]

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

#7, in which we reflect, somewhere safe

Maybe gasoline, syrup, alcohol or acid --

It’s been poured on the sheets. It soaks in much further than I can know.

Crisp, clean and fresh in plush luxury, our new cradle rejects the stains of blood and insects and pests, and i pray it remains

Crisp

Clean

Fresh.

In the newness, I have no reason to feel the indent of a stranger

So when my frigid body falls into the alcove left of foreign forms, plush luxury is

blood

and insects

and human pests.

≿ ━━━━ ━━━━༺​✟༻━━━━ ━━━━ ≾

FLIES ON THE WALL - a work in progress poetry/art chapbook

if i could see myself like they did, consumed by decay. if i could taste my own tired flesh, eat through the soft tissues, and become a home to something more than myself. if i could love like rot does.

#2, in which i hang the sheets

#5, in which i drink the blood

eyes on a botfly

[aloneintemporaryplaces]

[uchihaitachi]

yoshinori mizutani

[hailmaryfullofmaggots]

Do I love you, now? In this home?

My blood brimming eyes split in the shattered web of a mirror like the eyes on a botfly.

If they eat, I hope it burns.

≿ ━━━━ ━━━━༺​✟༻━━━━ ━━━━ ≾

FLIES ON THE WALL - a work in progress poetry/art chapbook

if i could see myself like they did, consumed by decay. if i could taste my own tired flesh, eat through the soft tissues, and become a home to something more than myself. if i could love like rot does.

[beweep]

Abandoned House in the Snow

[04k96]

[inanotherunivrse]

in another universe, it didn't take so much pain for us to be able to love each other. in another universe, it just happened. in another universe, there was no one else, no finding ourselves without each other, no distractions, just love. in another universe, there is our love without great pain and sacrifice. -- 🌿