Oh she is so alluring the way she weaves words that touch our deepest wounds, slicing them open so they can bleed again and again.
The pain – temporarily – brings us down from the prison of the mind and feels cathartic. The words that make our deepest unseen parts feel seen and not alone.
But beware of the Swamp my loves.
It feeds on your powerlessness.
It feeds on your pain.
On you running into her arms to be rescued so you can release all responsibility and be affirmed in your victimhood and pain.
This is how she is fed because she cannot grow life.
Only death.
There is no healing in her arms.
It’s a web of delusion.
Her own dark wounds projected onto the world are simply another layer of fantasy.
She will show you how to cut yourself.
She will show you how to be angry so she can feed off you.
She gains significance and importance when you crawl to her broken.
She isolates you with fear.
The Devouring Feminine eating and gorging and hungry for pain.
Dying over and over without being reborn.
Composting without birthing new life.
Eating her own.
The lullaby of the swamp tells you that you are not responsible.
You are righteous in your pain.
Come be angry with her.
Come rest here with her and she will whisper sweet poetry in your ear.
She is a Siren.
Calling you into the rocks.
Trapping you below the marine layer of disconnection.
Warning you of that island over there where lies true power and freedom.
The song is intoxicating.
You have been warned.
