solid gold, fourteen carat, barely burnished despite twenty years of hard molling. but beneath it, i knew, beneath that gold & stardust, she was all grit and sharp teeth gnashing, head twisting, talons out, tearing flesh.

make me queen

private, selective, independent blair waldorf.

or i'll make you bleed

you have to decide who you are, little girl, she told me once. once you know that, everyone else will too.

navigation

—

Venetta Octavia,

from “Sekhmet, Not Pin-Up Girl,”

Prelude to Light

(via

lifeinpoetry

)

—

I can be feminine in all my rage.
I can be girl and woman, and claws with teeth.
Watch me burn.

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