If you saw her, you’d know
you’re rubble beneath her feet.
She’s the Queen of Darkness—
sitting on her chrome throne.
Her hair is the color of the horizon
when day breaks. She comes to me
when I’m in a haze of longing
and sorrow—feeds me venom
so I do not waste away into air.
She tells me to collect raven bones,
not to be afraid of digging my fingers
and feet into the dirt. It’s safer to be feral,
to smear blood on my mouth; not everything
needs to be light and clean—sometimes
chaos is necessary. Don’t fear moonless nights.
Marisa is a poet, bruja, spirit companion, and contributing writer for Pussy Magic.
Growing up in the Southwest influenced her magickal practices, and she considers herself a kitchen witch. In her free time, she enjoys reading about the Fae Folk, scandals in Old Hollywood, and the spirits of the sea. She is obsessed with kitschy motels in the desert, mermaids, vampires, and pinups. In her twenties she attended UEA in England, and misses being able to sit in pubs, people watch, and write.
You can find her on Instagram, Tumblr, and Twitter @thesweetmaris.