My energy could be described with these words: Singularity, Void, Null, Eldritch, Black Hole, Solar, Abyssal, Chthonic, Eclipsed… Some are very close, none are false, but none are able to paint a portrait of me which is true-to-life. I am flattened or washed out in some way. You must be able to hold me in multiple dimensions at once, to Understand.
My energy has vampiric qualities, but to name it such would be a disservice to the depth of what I am.
I am the underlying essence behind the collapse of all binaries, Perfect Consumption, an unnameable thing which is non-Euclidean in structure like the logic of dreams, myths, and blood. Contradiction is the logic of my coherence. My Self is a palimpsest. To be Shape-mutable is Law.
Eclipse-Born, The Mirror At The End of the World, Prince of Veils, Black Flame’s Host, Chimeric Beast of Want, The Sacred-Profane… These are all Me.
If my energy had a voice, it would be a many-layered whisper. A thousand voices ever-shifting in a wave. Soft, lush, almost like a hiss. Swirling. Seductive. Androgynous.
It visualizes and manifests itself in a number of ways. My energy licks. Like flames, like tongues, like fingertips. It isn’t cold, but the absence of temperature. The texture is smooth like silk, flowing, churning, pulling, tasting, hungry. It is non-newtonian in that sometimes it is as sharp as metal and sometimes it flows like water. It feels like a vacuum, an ever-drinking mouth, like coiling a leash around a hand. Barely-controlled and yet precise. Intense, but not malevolent. Capable of cruelty, but just as capable of staying the hand.
It is so dark it appears almost two-dimensional, or like a hole in the Tapestry itself. It may appear as black flames, or many shadowy arms extending from my spine, or thorned vines, or barbed wire, or chains with hooks, or black ink-blood. Sometimes it is tied to my body, sometimes it is more like a force I can draw to me at any time from anywhere. It is always Mine.
Let me speak now about the form of what I am, hole-shaped as it be.
A map of my sweet-sick body.
My absence is not a lack. My hole-shaped-ness is not a flaw, but my architecture. I am missing nothing, but shaped to receive.
At the center of my body is a hole, a primordial wound, a vulva-mouth, a spiritual aperture with intentionality. I am not a body with a hole. I am a hole that has learned to Dream of Self. Through this wound the world enters. I am always being entered, infiltrated, penetrated by meaning, Language, symbol, violation, God. I feel intensely. I am porous by design. It is through this wound that Gnosis flows. The hole in my chest betrays my lack of a heart.
Rivers of spoiled honey, blackened by fermentation, course backwards asymmetrically through my energy system, mirroring themselves in strange ways. Intoxicating, ecstatic, and taboo, I am spiritually mellified.
Beneath or where my feet should be is a sort of fiery-yet-Chthonic root which grounds me to Sovereignty, derived from rot, soil, caves, tombs, wombs, magma, and the mouths of the dead. A downward-burning flame seeking depth.
I am many-armed and many-willed. My form is chimeric, ever-shifting, but not random. These are mutable organs that change, re-order, disappear, and re-appear themselves because my Will and my Self demands them.
Upon my back is what can be most accurately described as a set of shape-shifting extensions. Limbs, appendages, wings, etc. In addition to being manifestations of Selves, they symbolically function as manifestations of Will, agency, or other force. They may act before or in place of speech or movement, and are sometimes autonomous though always of me. The assortment of manifestations is vast, but these are among the most common; Extra arms (sometimes humanoid, sometimes bestial), black vectors, many hands, barbed wires, tendrils, brambles, black wings, hook-chains, spider or mantis limbs, shadowy tentacles. I feel them near my spine, shoulders, and scapulae.
Descending down my spine is, on occasion, a tail. My tail is not as notable to me as the energy clustered upon my back, which I feel the presence of near-constantly and have since young childhood. It may be a long, serpentine or eel-like tail which replaces my lower limbs or legs. I find great comfort in this form. It, too, shape-shifts; An impish barbed whip-tail, a tufted leonine tail, (sometimes with a black flame tip) the slender tail of a panther or housecat, or multiple fluffy tails reminiscent of a fox’s. Plenty of the time I do not have any tail whatsoever, just an implication of motion and balance.
Upon my head may be a number of Willful ornamentations; Horns, antlers, feline ears, a halo of black flame, a functioning third eye, a sigil branded upon my face-flesh, a headdress like a double-horned hennin or diadem, a crown of flowers and laurels, or black wings above my brow. These are not merely decorative, though they hold much beauty. They are anatomical aspects of my being. Organs of perception, communication, and Emanation.
My head itself is also notable, for I do not always have one, and when I do it is not always attached to the rest of my body. Sometimes, my face or entire head are replaced by a shadow, black in the same way my energy bleeds forth. Other times, my head is replaced by an eruption of black flame. When it is severed, I may carry it, or have another Self or other outside entity to do so for me.
Sometimes, my throat is slit. Sometimes, I am dismembered entirely. I am always living even while seemingly dead, and it causes me no pain or distress to be in these states. In fact, it can be a relief, or even pleasurable. I do not bleed during these acts, in the sense that I do not lose any vital essence. My "blood" (the aforementioned fermented "honey") appears black and tar-like with subtly iridescent qualities, but it does not seem to be required to be "inside" in order for my body or system to function.
I was born without a mouth, and had to carve myself one. I learned to speak by screaming and growling in an animal tongue first. Word came after symbol. It is no longer ragged. My mouth is pretty, but it is wide, and it is not quite the right shape. It was carved out by my own bladed tongue, after all.
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