wyrdwind

Cold out there and can’t get in

Scratchin’ those walls, how long has it been?

You’re wearin’ rags and chasin’ a match

Whose lips hold your name best

.

No need to speak, your heart is havin’ trouble

With the beat, beat, beat, so I’ll just take it slow

I can speak

A language only we know, find the beat, beat, beat

My heart I’m singin’ low

.

We can lay together

No distance ever meant a thing

Stay right here forever

Until the seasons turn again

.

Where we’re goin’, that garden yeah

Made you a promise, if you were my man

And all their talkin’ clouded your mind

It was always me

Turn your head just a

.

Beat, beat, beat, your signals crossed and tangled

That’s a fleece, fleece, fleece, got quite an overgrowth

Find your feet

You can’t feel the heat yet but I

Speak, speak, speak, spinnin’ charnel into gold

.

We can lay together

No distance ever meant a thing

Stay right here forever

Until the seasons turn again

.

Mm-mm-mm-mm

Oh we lay, and we lay, and we lay

Mm-mm-mm-mm

We can lay together

Our night is always young like this

Stay right here forever

You’ll find a way to love again

My love will always rise again

I’ll always find my love

.

We can lay together

No distance ever meant a thing

Stay right here forever

Until the seasons turn again

.

Mm-mm-mm-mm

Mm-mm-mm-mm

.

@~^~

2am Thoughts: I draw much inspiration from Isis and have done from a very young age, since I basically went to the library in search of a mother figure I could actually relate to. I always imagined her on this epic quest backwards and forwards through time and space collecting the pieces of her lost love. I imagined those pieces manifested in all sorts of unusual ways, nothing so simple or obvious as a pile of body parts.

So imagine you’re the mistress of magic trying to coax your mate’s splintered spirit out from wherever it’s gone to hide. You literally have to spell his soul back into existence, which isn’t terribly hard to do when you’re not only a twin—afforded your own self as a blueprint—but also of the sex possessing two full chromosomes. This arguably makes you capable of endless regeneration. Infinite variety as seen in the natural world.

Anyways, this is incidentally why my leading men are all…glitchy, fraught, strange and vaguely resembling Jesus if it’s a painting. I’m sure he wouldn’t return from such dismemberment unscathed. There would be permanent consequences. Nor would she endure such a lonely and arduous journey ungrizzled—it takes a grim amount of spite to tell this world you’d rather dredge your dumpster puzzle prince from every conceivable gutter and redneck goddess his ass back together again than accept literally any other man under the sun, and you don’t give a good goddamn how everything goes to shit in the meantime.

To my way of thinking, if immense pain leaves scars, so too should immense love, and perhaps the very nature of magic is the ability to transmute the former into the latter. Capacity for one directly correlates with capacity for the other. If you’re brave enough to pull it off, what results is something far more beautiful than the sum of aforementioned parts, and serves as an illustration of humanity’s corrected course of evolution itself.