#inklings.

[whufflebee-blog]

a guide to becoming the galaxy.

one. swallow a teaspoon of stardust, a tablespoon of moon crust. chew it until your teeth chip and its gravely texture finds its way down your throat.  repeat until you feel  yourself to be as weightless as the cosmos.

two. start a garden. pull the  stars from the skies and name them after roses, and lilies and daisies. disregard the way they reach for the heavens they no longer belong way up there where no one can touch them.

three. skin a planet and eat its flesh. take the sun in both hands and bite  into warmth. feel your tongue burn and melt away and smile.

[antgione-blog]

you wear your tragedy like a perfume. a spritz on your wrist and neck, a few dried tear stains on your cheeks. it smells of

rotting bones and an aching heart, bleeding and covered in reddened band-aids as if it could be fixed. that tragedy you wear smells like puddles of saltwater that find the ground after

running down a dripping nose and making it just past the jaw. you wear your tragedy like a perfume, and we can all smell it.

TRAGEDY // noel v.

[whufflebee-blog]

ii. a hollow shade of deep blue wraps itself around my room. spreads its’ lips a little too far, a little too wide. sharp teeth come closer and it get ready to swallow me whole, and i can’t move. nails are driven into my hands and feet, my bed becoming my own crucifixion site. 

breathing becomes forgotten a distant memory within a terrified mind.

a memory of sleep paralysis | a look at an upcoming chapbook, imagerie

[whufflebee-blog]

a god, undone. pt. I  | @dealcours

one. aphrodite removes her blessing and you resemble a  stranger. it disgusts you, and you break a mirror from anger.  all that’s left is a marred image staring back at human flesh.

two. the ambrosia in your veins is picked out slowly, and it burns. your flesh begs to be ripped off, fingernails leaving skin red and raw, knuckles bloodied and bruised form beating into walls.

three. you scream at the skies above, demanding your rewards. you scream until your voice disappears. the heavens thunder and they laugh.

four. they do not pity you.

[whufflebee-blog]

i. alpenglow apex through collarbones and shoulder blades, with sweet rosy kisses along a slender neck. sunset finds itself a home in the crook of your arm, and moonrise follows soon after. symphony of stars, faded out by fading out rays -- an orchestra created solely of a dying warmth.

sunset, my lover | a look at an upcoming chapbook, imagerie

[whufflebee-blog]

there’s a house with a mirror in every room. | noel v.

[whufflebee-blog]

i. the prince is far behind me, and the castle is further away. my home is closer, with my evil stepsisters who tore my dresses and the mice who sing me lullabies until i fall asleep. ( TO EMBRACE THEM AS THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE / THIS WOULD BE A DREAM COMING TRUE. )

ii. the man at the ball called me pretty. stroked my cheek and left me gasping for more with reddened lips and widened eyes. mouth touched to mine and i sighed.  ( THE CLOCK STRUCK TWELVE BEFORE I COULD SAY GOODNIGHT!)

iii. the prince is close behind me, but the castle is further away. he calls to me --- that false name i gave him before the clock began to ring.

i stop and turn to him. ( THE BELL IS RINGING, FALSE PRINCESS. THE BELL IS RINGING AND YOU HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF CAUGHT BETWEEN A LIE. )

past midnight. | fairytales | noel v.

[whufflebee-blog]

how to become a god. 

one. stand straighter. they always say that gods  graceful. better than humanity will ever be. wear a graceful smile - one that speaks of something eldritch beneath your bones. there’s something holy that stretched beneath your skin, a type of false divinity that lies beneath. 

two. understand that godship is not given. pray to your idols and  hope that they grant your wishes to join them. find an apollo and invite him to bed. promise him drunken kisses in exchange for a taste of divinity on your tongue.

three. your lungs are burning. your  lungs are burning and your fingertips tingle inside your palms. the blood within your veins are tainted gold, that crimson ichor becoming scalding hot. to become a god, you  must experience pain.