give them a piece of you

August 5, 2018


Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

Neil Gaiman
The Sandman

After life

July 20, 2018

here is no bright blinding light
nor warmth of rapturous gods
waiting at the end of tunnels
no uplifting, lilting voices of invisible choirs;
sans seraphim and angels most bewitching
mortal tears cannot capture
the beauty of their being.

There is no darkness or demons lurking
inside a cauldron of fiery spheres
nor sulphuric screams over carnal pleasures
too jarring for the drum
and no appeals for brief release
from biting anguish to a distant lord.

I tell you Brother,
here we are fathered for higher purpose
honed from nightmares of the living
reshaped to be monsters among men.

Sharla Anderson

only a passing thing

April 21, 2018

And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end…because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing…this shadow. Even darkness must pass.

J R R Tolkien
The Two Towers

like the surrealists

December 21, 2017

Reality is a prison – free yourself now and take those first, hesitant steps into darkness. Find that magical place where lost souls entwine. Be like the surrealists and actively seek out the marvelous –

A warning to you all…

December 16, 2017

the real darkness

October 4, 2017

The darkness inside your head is something your imagination fills with stories that have nothing to do with the real darkness around you.

Adam Johnson
The Orphan Master’s Son

The Old Man of Winter

August 18, 2017

At the withering of the year
There stands a tree in black silhouette
On a background of snowy white

Bent-backed, twisted and knotted
Like a man of great age
Wizened by the passing of time

Joints swollen
Limbs ending in gnarled fingers
Grasping icy teardrops come the dawn

Breath wheezing through
The leafless bough
Rasping and laboured

Can you hear him?

Whispering words of
Death and the darkness

Can you hear him?

Sammi Cox

on a winter’s evening

August 6, 2017

Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter’s evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day.

Virginia Woolf
Night and Day


August 5, 2017

The rain is almost
like snow.

Some three a.m. car passes.

The corner utility pole
holds a cone of light
to its mouth

and is screaming
at the pavement.

We are almost here
almost drifting through

the world without purpose

as the rain vanishes
in the darkness

Carl Adamschick

20th June

Long, hot night. Such intense darkness is the property of poets, madmen and lost lovers. Laying beside you reminds me of last summer, when we lay on the hot sand and the incoming tide cooled our naked bodies. I can still taste the salt on my fingers. Joined with you then, I became submerged in your wondrous depths and your body sang this song only I could hear.

I only exist beneath the tips of your slow moving fingers; the rest of my body is smoke,  lacking substance or form. Only where you touch me is there any true existence.

‘My religion is pleasure,’ you once said. Do you remember that? Then I proposed a toast to drowning mermaids and angels with broken wings. You laughed; Gabriella laughed too.

Gabriella desperately wanted you to love with her. She lay on her back with her legs spread and you handed her a red candle. ‘Pour the hot wax on yourself,’ you said. ‘On your breasts first, then on your belly.’

She did it for you, too. Her madness was equal to yours. She had lost herself in the chaos that is you. Suddenly she was sharing all the secrets and scars at the heart of your soul –


I love the twilight. That moment of melting colours before everything dissolves into darkness –