i read something the other day

reminding me of something i logically knew

but never seemed to apply to myself.


the lungs are not voids; rather they are veiny masses

that sit either side of your heart

passing particles of oxygen into your blood through cell membranes

a heavy pair of meat sacks protected by a cage of bones

if that is true, which biology determines it is

then how is it that they often feel so hollow?

that a penny could





and sit there silently

like a wishing well filled with disembodied promises

it is often strange to think of your body

your vessel, your messenger between firing neuron and mechanical flesh

as a great orchestra of meat and bone, of vein and blood and nerves

your brain, a super-advanced biocomputer

capable of high-speed sensory processing, of idle background programs

of software faults and external viruses

to think of yourself purely as a marvel of evolution and biology

dear God

what a marvel it is to live

to breathe.


i’ll never forget the fishing trips
the flask of tea and the cold sea breeze
you taught me how to cast a rod. go just beyond the rocks but close enough for the fish to smell it
you always handled the bait, they smelt like blood and sweat

i’ll never forget the lines you made me write
like being punished by a cold headmaster
condemning me as your imperfect spawn
being pinned against a door. hot breath on a crying face.
there was always food on the table, but my soul was still hungry for something it was missing

you taught me to fish like you taught me that respect was never a guarantee

it was clear you never got disciplined
by a pair of spineless parents (who sent you away)
it’s no wonder, really.
why you hate religion and stuffy old businessmen
why you speak with such disrespect to your mother and father
i’d have done the same, honestly

you compose half of me.
the fiery will and the logical brain
the quick temper, the whiplash tongue
the silent anger. the deafening rage.

a rabbit staring down the barrel of a hunting rifle.

i still panic when you raise your voice.

the art of dying

my body considered its death today
my brain has considered it many times; keeps its words to itself
tucks it away like a dirty secret
but my body has caught up
inhales, and says
ah yes
i was born to do this.
and relaxes

he who balances our hearts

august 16th

who calm the tempest whirling behind my eyes
the balm over the sores on my body
they who tame the hornet inside my head
slay the elephant in the room and decorate the conversation with the ivory

a song for sunrise

Prayer for Selene – A Call to the Moon Mother

I’d like to begin this blog by sharing a prayer I wrote for my primary deity: Selene, Greek goddess of the moon.

I like to use this prayer for Her during full-moon rituals, where I light some candles at my alter to Her, usually make some offerings and engage in self-care activities like drinking herbal tea or using a face mask. I find that self-care and self-protection alongside my prayers acts as a nice ritual.

Selene, the Moon Mother,

She who watches from Her hovering satellite.

Daughter of titans, nocturnal sister

Ancient watcher and beholder of generations.

Your hands skilfully on the reins as You guide the moon across the faultless darkness,

A beacon pilot light, to be seen and never touched.

Your temple, adorned by the crescent moon,

A testament to Your power, a symbol of Your divine strength.

I call for Your guidance,

I call for the endless depth of Your grace,

Your celestial knowledge and wisdom.

O Selene, beautiful and divine,

I call upon Your balance and light.

I ask You guide this one, blessed and gilded Selene,

and allow them access to Your infalliable love and limitless wisdom.