thecarvingwitch:

She cannot come in onto holy ground except to visit the graves
Belladonna blooms where her bare feet walk, sweet bitter tea she serves to unsuspecting evil
With a smile

Experience tells me to kneel. “You are helpless,“ it says
“Kneel at the banks of the river Lethe and drink deep”
Lips and teeth and tongue bathed in the cool wet
It would taste sweet and leave me sleeping
Oblivious

My heart tells me that what I cannot remember is just as much of a torment.
Forget and be reborn. If I do and go around one more time

It will just happen again

In the blindness that led me into wild dogs I stumble into the shallows of the Styx
Sinking into the mud I let the water consume me,  wishing I could close my eyes and drown
It floods into my mouth and ears until fury is all I taste and all I see

As the river embraces me I embrace the hate in my own heart, a flowing wound for each and every one
I emerge a serpent with a thousand sleepless eyes

You will drink deeply from the river Cocytus

I will drag you with my own iron stained hands

You will drink if I have to pry open your jaw and force it down your throat

Drink, drink from the river of wailing,
let it flow through you like Acheron lest I drag you there too

I will never again drink of Lethe, and I will see you burn.