The Darkness

The darkness. Can’t you feel it? Its gorgeous symphonies of beauteous natural melody. It calls out to the souls of the merging millions. It wants to be loved like so many others. Why does no one want the night? I touch the stars, they burn me, but I sing in glorious pain. Why can no one share my joy? The exquisite, scarring torture that it brings me. I sigh softly, wanting more. The midnight hours are my pleasure. They bring me all I need. The darkness envelops me whole; it possesses my soul, letting me float in winds of ecstasy. I can taste the love it gives me in my dry mouth. I can hardly breathe as the night takes me as its own. Why does no one realise its beauty? Can they not see the harsh light of the stars reflecting on their brows, wanting to be noticed? Can they not hear the moon singing to them? Singing a song of mourning, of piteous, haunting despair?

Why are they so lost? I am not lost. I know where I am to be. The night is my only love in this cold world. I embraced it and it held me close. They no not of the love they left to the desolate silence of time. I know it. I want it. I have it. And it has me. We are not alone. We are together, joined in the black void of oblivion. The night is my master, I am his willing submissive. I scream in his grip. I fall into the sadistic pleasures he holds for me. There is nothing I want more. There is nothing I dare crave for, now he owns me. He owns my soul, the darkness is the only entity left. There is nothing for me left in reality.

Holly Johnson

28/2/03