Good afternoon fine people! I suppose odds are in favor of some of you being not so fine but I wish you a good day nonetheless!
It’s bizarrely paradoxical that as the weather has improved to this lovely apex of sunshine and bird song, my own mood has teetered over its occasional misanthropic cliff.
There is no day without the night, plus of course, night has some advantages of its own.
Point being, it seems like a perfect time to release a slightly more depressing piece I’ve been sitting on for a while.
Hungry, March 8, 2018.
The black from which we all must come
It fails to shake off everyone
For many years we do still find
The swiftest death is often kind
The darkness stays and gorges some
Consumes the essence, evil’s won
The white alone it can not save
Embedded souls no matter brave.
The scene set is fairly bleak, it’s extremely cathartic though to put it to “paper”. In reflection, it reads as far less depressing and more Gothic nature. I like that. Old goth thought, like “Fall of the House of Usher” not musicians in black garb. Incidentally, I must be an uncultured swine as FOTHOU didn’t really do it for me, no doubt jaded by the approximate two hundred years of horror fiction that followed. So much build up and for a seemingly boring climax. And, as someone who as been delivering rather boring climaxes for years now, I’m something of an expert on the subject.
Thank you so much for your willingness to procrastinate from whatever you really should be doing right now. Much love to all!
A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.