Category: The Self

I gather pinches of the various dried herbs and flowers from their various jars and pouches. My mood today is out of body; distant and detached. I open the tap, filling the fat hollow of my kettle with the cool water of the well. My days have been blending together. I have cravings that can’t be satisfied. I smell my earthy fragrant mixture, stimulating something in my memory. Lavender blossom, chamomile, raspberry leaf, rose hip. Valerian root, orange peel, sage, and mint. Most from my own garden. I need something; a physical touch, intimacy, violent passion, and passionate violence. I watch the honey drip from my spoon and pool in the bottom of my mug, which reads “Pretend this is the skull of my enemy”. Gods what it would feel like to be a warrior again, to know the feel of a man again, and to bathe in blood instead of the crisp waters of spring. I use an old short sword to stoke the embers inside the wood-burner as my kettle begins to whistle and scream. The boiling water in my mug, causing intense clouds of scented floral vapors, the taste of which does something to clear the fog of my mind.