A thousand realities.
Why this one?
Chained to truth,
Like another curse on the pile.
As if I haven’t learned to drink,
From such things!
Power is power.
Yet.
I refuse to let something like that,
Ever control me.
Let us play at Atlas,
One weight,
Responsibility.
Another,
Greater goods.
What,
Is your deepest desire?
The danger of such flings:
I can often come close,
To true wishes.
Can do anything,
Provided enough time & effort.
Unfortunately,
For both of us?
I find myself,
Constrained.
To this reality.
Shackled,
By my fleeting whim.
I don’t want to be dangerous.
But some things,
Cannot be unlearned.
Knowledge being the most dangerous,
Of assets.
Provided it can be held in excess.
Played at dragons,
Sitting atop hoards.
Such things bore me now.
Consuming the occult;
Can only sustain us for so long.
Eventually,
You run out of things big enough,
To eat.
Food chain laws.
“I have become Death,
Destroyer of worlds.”
Look upon such knowledge,
& weep.
Security clearance nightmares –
Eternal shadows in the dark.
Dual light effect,
Shadows upon shadows.
Illuminate us.
Expose us.
Much like the Catholics did,
Druids driven before them.
What language was stolen from me?
No clue.
Ignorance lost another.
One cannot lounge around,
Drinking dark strength from curses.
Of the Blood variety,
Or otherwise.
Come on.
Get up.
I’ll smash however many hundreds,
Of glyphs,
Wards,
More.
Simmer down.
I’m only here to talk.
Only here to tease.
Here to please.
To you.
I am a wild thing.
Legendary,
Under some names.
Remember,
A thousand titles –
Denotes a hundred skillsets.
Do you think you know me?
Are you worthy enough,
To try to tame me?
Not that such a thing,
Is possible.
But I can play along.
Lots of desire to drink.
Speak.
Witch.
Warrior.
Monster.
Beast.
Invoke me by any one of them.
Pull one of the thousand masks,
From the wall.
Hand it to me to wear.
Watch the edges,
Sealed away.
Perfect mimic.
I’ll be anyone you want.
Glamour,
Face,
Self.
You cannot buy my power,
With money.
Nor do I barter,
With my strength.
My secrets,
I keep.
Your heart?
I’ll steal.
Raw.
Bloody.
Pulled fresh,
From between cracked ribs,
Aorta dangling.
Witches love such things,
As ever-beating hearts.
Trading immortality,
Freely.
A curse is a curse is a curse.
All about how you use it.
Ritual,
Spell,
Hex.
Sipping at each curse.
Nursing them.
One by one.
MEANS?
ends
A Curse Is A Curse Is A Curse.
