We walked, I knew not where
On the lips of the abyss we stood
Climbing, bleeding hand and foot,
Through the deepest of woods
Indeed, through the wraithing hollows themselves we fared
We walked,
I knew not where

The creatures wept at our passing
Pawing, kneading, grovelling,
They sheathed their claws and slavered- no
We forged ahead despite them,
There was still a long way to go
Past dyng echoes, till
The rivers ran out- we did not stop or despair
We still walked, I knew not where

And then the sand swallowed our shadows whole
The ground rolled like searing drops of gold
The wind howled, demented, but he still held my hand, and
We walked to a darkness no blazing sun could withhold
And the rocks yawned wide, the
Depths eddied like riptide
And the ground stood proud defender of the
Malice buried inside
And he showed me where he had lain
Whatever of my demons remained
And I knew, oh I knew,
I need never weep again
Because everything that had hurt me was
Entombed, forgotten, there
And I was free to walk, unscathed,
Anywhere, everywhere

And he walks with me still
Quietly watching, unassuming,
Holding my hand, my angel













And again the Lord said to Raphael: “Bind Azazel hand and foot, and cast him into the darkness: and make an opening in the desert, which is in Dudael, and cast him therein. And place upon him rough and jagged rocks, and cover him with darkness, and let him abide there for ever, and cover his face that he may not see light.”

The Book of the First Enoch, 10:4–6


/Just a bit of inspired reading. You guys know me and my thing for angels. :p


Cheerio chin chin

Cookie <3











There Is A Hell On Earth

There is a Hell on earth, and it’s in my house. Anyone who refuses to believe in the Devil should just come over for tea and see my dad. Lucifer would be proud.

Things had been almost normal for a while. I suppose more than an effort for normalcy, it was the simple fact that he was too occupied with his new secret affair and upheavals at work to pay too much attention to us. or focus his energy on new ways to torture us. I honestly didn’t even care that his so called business trip was a clandestine rendezvous with a girl even younger than me, because it bought us a few days of much needed quiet. Even that didn’t work out, though.

As it turns out, the ‘other’ woman isn’t just a gold digger, but a cheating one too. I don’t know what kind of delusions my father harbors. He was on cloud 9 thinking that he’d landed a young girl who was madly in love with, ready to leave her life behind and move to be with him, wait on his every whim, etc. Instead he found out that she’s been regularly fucking other men, through the entirety of their affair. A cheater gets cheated on? Heavens, how could that be?
It’s not any sort of consolation to us that Dad’s crawled back home to lick his wounds, though. We’re having to bear the brunt of his msiplaced, wrath, mom most of all, and she can’t understand where this new surge of maniacal behavior stems from. To a certain point we all try to be clinical about his madness, but you can only be detached for so long. After that…. well let’s just say it gets nastier.
So you have an almost Taliban-esque religious figure who is taking out his frustration on his family because his secret girlfriend cheated on him. The irony is not lost on me, but I’m not smiling. There comes a place where you become so tired of being so bitter day in and day out that you literally just want to end it, to stop feeling like this exhausted, hateful person whose every nerve is their last nerve. And on top of that you have a figure like my father haunting your every step, nagging you about everything from why you’re drinking from that mug, taking one teaspoon of sugar instead of two, wearing a color as bright as blue, sitting a certain way, arranging cans in the shelf nonalphabetically… the madness is incessant, and I’m tired. I’m tired of the constant snide comments that I’m going to Hell because I didn’t wake up at five am, how my eating habits are pointless because I didn’t eat two bananas before going for a run in the morning, how I’m a sinner and I’m filthy because I like to shower after breakfast, instead of before… Each of this is a repetitive topic, practically every day in fact. As far as I’m concerned, I’m in Hell already.
Three years ago when I started my blog, I still had a modicum of hope and ambition left. Now, I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up being thirty and living in my parents’ house under this monster’s thumb, simply because I’m too afraid of leaving my family behind with this creature who will almost literally eat them alives, devour their happiness as he has mine. At the same time, I’m not strong enough to do something that will extricate all of us from his iron hold. I’m a girl with an IQ of 159, sitting and arranging dusty old newspapers by date because they ‘should’ be arranged before being sent for recycling. I’m in love with a man who wants to get away from everything and everyone he knows quite as badly as I do, but the only difference is that I’m included in the ‘everyone’ for him. I’m a doctor, and I just spent forty five minutes standing impassively and trying not to react to the blood oozing on the floor as my father slammed each and every piece of meat in the freezer onto the ground, screaming and bellowing at our incompetence because we forgot that there was chicken in the freezer and he bought some more.
And this is my life. Bring on eternity, I suppose.

Head Injury





That’s why they call it ‘falling in love’
It tends to smack you in the face
Or make you stumble and dive headfirst
And you notice that the stars above
Are suddenly brighter, the pace
At which the world turns, is slower
The Heavens are lower, within
Your reach, your skin
Is painted, and each
Of the colors
Belong to someone else
The music of the universe
Crescendos and quells
It bruises you, the force
Of your spiritual ascent
Physically, simultaneously,
Expect a descent
Confusion, confabulation
Falling in love, therefore, is
Practically a concussion




Ode to Kalo 



To the seat of demonic possession 

Vortex of spinning energy 

Glittering, malicious verbal whips and 

Maker of aching, muscular maladies 
To the bounder, the founder of faithlessness 

The font of driving endless suffering 

Disciple of the Beast, you, who feasts 

On the masses of the writhing and sweating 

Devouring our hopes and bodily ambitions

Leaving all hearts and limbs quaking 
Abode of restlessness, presumably kind, probably mean

Pushing forty eight hours a day on methamphetamine 

Cyclone in the hall, all of us fall to your feet,

There not one straight spine to be seen 

Every movement eliciting moans and groans

The machines thanking The Lord that He 

Made them machines 


Pinnacle of human and satanic synergy 

Zenith of endurance, wrath of a thousand angry seas 

Revered, most feared trainer

You might just be the death of me



It’s healthy to leave the gym feeling slightly murderous… 😜

Messages Off a Cigarette -LX-



It’s like standing in the rain 

Always the same but 

Never the same

Some days I take one look

At your smile 

And fall in love all over again 

‘Messages off a Cigarette’



It’s the small things. 

Like how a shadow of a dimple shows after you shave. Or the way you scratch your stubble against the grain absentmindedly. How you wrinkle your nose when you cat h me blushing. Or how your smile makes my heart flutter after all this time. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. 
When the whole is uncertain, when the only constant is change, thank god that some things never will. :)
Love and light, 

Cookie <3

2 AM

I hear the Beast’s voice as I’m falling asleep
It seems loud in the distance, I can’t be sure.
I tiptoe past a silently opened door.
The hall is dark, the carpet muffles my steps, I feel my way to the railing 
And listen…. Nothing.
It’s not him screaming. 
Just a hallucination, some sound or the other. 
But I turn, and I see my sister 
Crouched on the landing, just as scared 
Nowhere in the world are there
Two other girls, so afraid
To leave their mother 
Alone with their father 

2 AM