We wake to the pleasure of our hearts-1

There are times where I must consider myself a beast
To desire to obliterate your self to satisfy my need for your pleasure
That you desire this as well gives me pause
Because I must consider myself your champion
A dark soul, a brightly burning messenger of the night
But yours
Not as a blade because this is not your necessity
But your tormentor
Your jailer
Your lover
Your protector
I must consider the line to walk between the obliteration of the self into a object of control and service and lust
And my ability to bring you back from that brink
And whispers sweet somethings
Engage in passion behind mere pleasure
And sit reading a book aloud for storytime
You are a joy I never thought would be

Obsidian mirror

I read, often, about the light that shines in the darkness. I don’t think I am such a light. Nor do I think I would want to be. There are plenty of people who blaze with light pushing back the darkness. No, I think such is not for me. Dealing with loss and pain, death, murder, and all the petty tyrannys of life in the vast depersonalization of modern society.

No, not for me to kindle light and eradicate darkness. Rather to take the darkness in. To become friends with it, lovers. To shine, but only reflecting back the light. That others may see themselves as I see them.

I will take the darkness. Make this my home. There is beauty here. Beauty in pain, in dark things done in dark places. You need not fit into the normal world, shining light for those afraid of the darkness. But show a obsidian mirror, showing the light they have already. Showing that they need not look to another to blaze the trail, instead that they themselves are the path.

Perhaps, I may shine, but in darker spectrum, for those to whom the light is not refuge but restraint. There are deeper paths, darker paths and often light is a hindrance more than a help.

Sussurra

And I’ll falter through my falling lines
Dancing my depression
Remembrance of the passing time
It’s sifting down to sadness
Our drinking has reached its peak
And brought a passing semblance
Of passion that is ours to keep
A welcoming of madness

A drifting dream
I seek to wake
And claim a rightful lightness
But ere I dream
I’m lost to sleep
And drinking only darkness

We’re not afraid of the dark(we’re afraid of what’s in it

desolate heart made bloody
treacherous blooms blossom
( with the stench of rotting flesh)
that which was whole will be torn asunder
and in the darkness eyes long closed open
the shadow that sits in heart awakens
the aetheric shudders as monstrous fealty wakens and forms
horrible to behold
long in fang and claw
look into baleful eyes and know
that balance in full measure comes

Well

I have been known to say that I embraced my darkness and in doing so came out the other side. This is not to say that I emerged into light. Far from it. I merely emerged in a cloak of my own darkness. By accepting All that I am, I am able to be honest. I am not the hero of the story. I am. There need be no other statement.