Little boys like little girls, they like to maim them and set their hair on fire. Twisted boys like sick girls. They like to bleach their skin and burn gaslights in their eyes. Crisping vampires sucking chastity from the veins of choir girls. Lurking and leering, offering up intimidation on plates made from silver and bone. Be wary, princess, these scaly ghouls want to chomp and snap at the skin of royalty. And if you get one slick drip of venom in your blood there will be hell to pay! There will be hell to pay if the beast boys chomp. There will be hell to pay if the string men slither. There will be hell to pay little girl.

Like ants we crawled from primordial bile hissing and spitting sand dunes. Caked in ash we clambered through roots and ancient stone. We searched for sanctuary in endless plains and buried the dead. Our wet, foetus hands dug pits for shelter. We slaughtered our fill. Millenia sank away around our eye sockets, bleaching humanity and caring from our halogen souls. We broke ground. Built wells. Made buildings so high they touched God. Covered rich earth in choking concrete. We made comfort a right. We made destruction a way of life. Polluted the air with carbon and web waves. We tore down forests to build a frail infrastructure and forced fabric on the apes. The plague of man. The scourge of humanity. We kill and claim compensation. We wipe out worlds and call it innovation. It’s time to breathe in the fumes of our decadence and see light.

Gaze at me. Wander into my eyes and reveal your inner desires. I am a witch, a voodoo master, the devil. My calling card swings on its vine like a spider caught in the wind. Catch a glimpse. You are my warrior, my spy, my lover, my enemy. I can twist words with a tip of my hat and a flash of my teeth. Are you scared? Are you envious? Are you there? I caught you in my bone cage and now you are trapped. Stuck in my tangle of barbed wire until I see fit to free you. A bird with broken wings. Scream, I beg you, scream. As loud as a thunder storm and no one will hear. Laugh, I beg you, laugh. As soft as the moon and I will not falter. Dance for me, sway like a reed for me. I am the narcissist. I am the hypnotist. I am the fire. And you belong to me.

This thing between my thighs is a curse. It makes me a victim, a witch, a whore. It means I am not human but an object. An intricate Chinese box whose contents are insignificant. Victimise me for I am a woman. Prejudge me for my chest, my hair, my complexion, my waist. My mind is a labyrinth of deep thoughts and wishes. Violate me for I am a woman. I cannot blame you for your monstrous acts because you are a slave to whim and I should guard my purity with a lock and key. Own me for I am a woman. My desires are central to your male ego. Happiness and pleasure can only be attained through your blessings. Worship me for I am a woman. What lies beneath this gentle façade? A predator? A wise man? The devil? You fear the concept of my freedom like you fear uncaging a beast. To let me escape the barricades of the womb would be too great a risk. I am unyielding and judicious for I am a woman.