Dark. Loner. Artistic. Writer. Musician. Goth aesthetic. Psychologist. Autonomous. Creative. Intellectual. Demisexual. Sapiosexual. Nature. Traveling. Books. Compassion. Passion. Kindness. Guitar. Cynical humor. Dance. Chocolate. Macabre. Horror. Haunted houses. Halloween. Wednesday Addams. Cemeteries. Neuropsychology. Evolutionary psychology. Philosophy. B*SM dynamics. Connection. Randomness. Style. Confidence. Podcasts. Gaming. Rain. Nighttime. Walking. Movies. Singing. Concerts. Thrift shops. Old things. Architecture. Interesting people. Poetry. Layers. Yoga. Tea....the list will go on...
Veracity
In the morning,
When daylight softly comes, the feel of ubiquitous heat touches skin,
One half lies in shadow, tar-pooled liquid of night and rain
Strikes me, ever playful
Time reels in these moments as fractured light touches flesh—
—that one time in the garden, cool dirt beneath my feet
Sunlight coiled about the porch where he waits
Red, sticky-hot blood from a wound long healed,
In the wet, dark shroud of dusk when the light fades.
—and Mother’s sick body like a shriveled, weak babe
Resting calm but not calm between light and dark,
It is here that vulnerability hides,
It is here that I feel viscous night, profound
It is here the violent urges overcast the light
a fetal position hides little in the warm-soaked wood,
and the half-in-shadow quivers at what waits,
they say time holds all secrets, it is the secrets that hold me
—in the unsettling embrace of monsters
Oh, that I could sink into the wood, feel the grain as my own flesh,
Become the sun that breaks all obscurity into truth
Uncoil these dark fingers—each a millstone about my neck
—here,
in the unsettling embrace of monsters
