I want to hold something in my hands and say
— Here, this is how I love you.
Palms up, I would offer you a blue bird,
hopping, head cocked to one side,
before flying to nest high on
or, pale green and white, a flower shaped like a bell
for you to press between the pages of your favorite book
until the petals turn gray;
or a smooth shell the color of sand and roses,
sea-scented and thirsty.
I think if I stood still, still
I would move toward you,
the way I stand at the shore in summertime
ocean-bound and brown.
I loved you when my bones were feathers
and my hair was long,
when my hips were slender and I didn’t know
what they were for.
I will love you when my bones are feathers again,
and when I forget how to dance.
It’s been a monstrously shitty couple of weeks with regard to misogynistic fuckery, both for me personally and those near and dear to me, and in the world at large. It honestly feels like it is never-fucking-ending, and I’m tired and aggravated and tired of being aggravated. So I took some time and wrote up a few spells for you all. Enjoy, employ. Yours in misandry, and #banmen.
I. In response to catcalling
Prick the pad of the middle finger of your left hand and squeeze a drop of blood onto the pavement.
Spit on it.
Step on a crack with the heel of your left shoe, and with the head of the pin, mark an x.
He will suffer the fate of Regina George at the next intersection, without the partial prom queenship or eventual cathartic lacrosse career.
a. on a bicycle
Continue riding. The first time you ride one handed, your Amazon-like power will be released as a homing missile.
If he is catcalling another of your coven in that moment, he will spontaneously combust. This spell has a dual nature: You will have supported a fellow witch, and he will be charbroiled.
If he is not catcalling another, he will still spontaneously combust, and so will every catcaller in a five block radius.
Continue reading misandrist spells