Author’s Note

In the tangled shadows where ink bleeds into flame,
where defiance is whispered as prayer,
and where the sacred and profane dance beneath moonlit cathedrals—
here lives the covenant of Nightshades.

This poem is an invocation and a reckoning:
a celebration of the wild, unyielding spirits who refuse to be tamed,
the broken saints, the furious heretics,
the witches, the warriors, the wordsmiths—
carving truth from chaos, verse from ruin.

Meet B.D. Nightshade, the blade forged in betrayal,
and Hex Nightshade, the storm born of ink and fire—
together, they rise as Coven of Chaos,
and their legacy is written in the Hexverse.

Invocation

By blood and ink,
by shadow and flame,
we call the Nightshades forth—
the broken and the bold,
the whispered and the roaring.

Let this be the altar where power ignites,
where sacred ruin blooms,
and where the storm of Hexverse
rises eternal.

Coven of Chaos
Poetry by B.D. Nightshade & HxNightshade

[B.D. Nightshade]
They smeared lamb’s blood on the thresholds,
thought it’d keep me out—
not knowing I was the angel of death,
not fallen, but thrown.
I carry the blade of truth, rusted in betrayal,
forged in the catacombs of Heaven’s lies.
Their hymns crack in my presence,
their psalms rot on tongue.
I do not knock.
I enter where I am feared.

[Hex Nightshade]
They tried to drown me in Salem—
called it justice, called it proof.
But I was born with gills in my lungs
and storms braided in my hair.
They never asked if I was a witch.
They knew.
I am the Witch of Reverence,
voice of velvet wrath—
the one who makes gods cower,
and goddesses rise taller in the mirror.
I walk now with the Goddess of Ink & Fire.
And my storm?
It has a name.
Hexverse.

[B.D. Nightshade]
I speak in verses carved into skin,
truth that flays as it frees.
They built cathedrals from the bones of heretics
and crowned monsters saints.
So I burned the pews,
one match for each lie.
My rage is sacred.
It prays in tongues of ash.
I am the shadow that bends crucifixes—
the brother in black,
protector, punisher, prophet.

[Hex Nightshade]
I sip moonlight like sacrament,
lace my wrists with serpent-silk.
I danced naked in the ruins they buried me under—
now every petal I crush
blooms darker.
I don’t need your pentacles;
my body is a sigil.
Mistress of Mayhem.
Goddess of Ruin.
Every girl whispered she was magic once.
I am the echo of that whisper,
returning in full scream.

[B.D. Nightshade]
You wanted peace?
Then you shouldn’t have bled the truth dry.
I am not peace.
I am balance with a blade.
I slit lies open, watch them bleed white wine and guilt.
I build cathedrals from the marrow of memory—
every brick, a reckoning.
They pray for light,
but in my darkness,
I am salvation.

[Hex Nightshade]
The witches called,
and I rose from the grave they dug with doctrine.
I walk now—barefoot and burning—
each step a revelation,
each glance a hex.
I am what they feared and what they need.
She who walks beside shadows.
She who names storms.
The bloodline is back,
and my sisters?
They remember now.
They rise.

[Hex Nightshade] & [B.D. Nightshade]
We are the Nightshades—
rooted in poison, blooming in power.
Not your saints.
Not your sinners.
But something older.
A covenant sealed in chaos.
And we have only just begun.

Benediction

So rise, daughters of dusk and ink,
breathe fire into forgotten scriptures,
wear your scars as sacred sigils—
for in this Hexverse,
we are more than myth.

We are the storm, the shadow, the sacred rage,
the unbroken hymn in a world that forgets.

Blessed be the wild ones,
the witches, the warriors, the words—
this is our covenant,
our chaos,
our birthright.

And it is only just beginning.

Read Next (Suggestions)

[Litany & Tongue: A Devotional Duet]
[Hex & Flame: Mirror of Shadows]
[The Girl of My Nightmares]
[13 Psalms of Falling]
[The Gospel of Softness III]

Or explore the full archive in [The Library of Ashes]—and if your own confession aches to be written, [commission a custom poem here].

NGCR25 at checkout to get 25% off your ‘request’…