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    Black Hellebore – Resurrected Perfume Oil

    Also called Melampode. In witchcraft legend, this is one of the components of the notorious flying ointment, and is used in rituals that summon the Devil. In Greek mythology, Melampus of Pylos used hellebore to save the daughters of the king of Argos from a Dionysian Maenad-like madness. In Christian myth, hellebore was born from the tears a little girl shed onto the snow because she had no gift to give to the Christ child. In low magick, it has been used by farmers to protect their livestock from the evil eye. Court magicians have used it in martial invisibility spells, enabling spies and assassins to infiltrate enemy camps. Hellebore resembles the wild rose, but does not belong to their family. The scent is a pale green herbal, darkly rooty, with a faint rose and peony-like overtone.

    Borage and hellebore fill two scenes,
    Sovereign plants to purge the veins
    Of melancholy, and cheer the heart
    Of those black fumes which make it smart.

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  • Despondency Perfume Oil

    A sorrowful Halloween blend of pumpkin puree, lavender bud, night-blooming violets, purple sandalwood, and tears.


    Art by Drew Rausch!

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    Quintessence of Dust Perfume Oil

    “What a piece of work is a man!”
    “What is this quintessence of dust?”

    The passing: beeswax and smoke, yellowed paper and well-worn leather books, droplets of spilled ink, faded incense, blood-tinged salty tears, and the metal of the knife that skewers that illiterate zombie philistine’s portrait.

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    Sad Love Perfume Oil

    The moon spits fire,
    Lotuses droop
    And loaded with fragrance
    Mingle in sad love.

    Kokila, bird of spring,
    Why do you torture?

    Why do you sing
    Your love-provoking song?

    My lover is not here
    And yet the god of love
    Schemes on and on.
    You do not know the meaning of ‘tomorrow.’

    ‘Tomorrow’ is my tomorrow
    And water
    Escapes the dam of youth.

    You are in love,
    So is your lover,
    And your two banks
    Are brimming with the flood.

    My lover left and I would die
    Than wait still longer
    For his loved return.

    The fragrance of flowers
    Enters the city,
    Bees sing,
    The moon and night enchant,
    Yet all are enemies.

    – Vidyapati Thakur

    Lotus petals and tears.

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