You have found us

April 20, 2012March 7, 2018 ~ TheDamned ~ 2 Comments

Enter.

Sit before the Tale Weaver.

You are now in the presence of the Damned. Within these pages, an eclectic gathering of dark writers and poets. Each a distinct voice. Each a bent mind. Each a tortured soul. Here, the fabric of reality twirls round our malevolent fingers. Here, light comes to die.

Our world is beautifully charred compared to your own. Beneath your polish lies our rust. Beneath your glory exists our taint.

We hide not behind masks. We cringe not from the raw. The Damned speak truths you dare not utter. The Damned expose all you shamefully hide.

Indulge upon our sanguine prose. Bloat with our anguished muse. Exalt in our blatant gluttony. You deserve it all. For the Damned are merely reflections of yourself, and portraits do not lie.

No longer are these your safe surroundings. Eternally damned you shall now be.

Until we choose to summon you again…be gone.

So the Tale Weaver speaks.

~ Joseph A. Pinto as the Tale Weaver

Deep… Dark… Seething…

April 19, 2012June 8, 2016 ~ Nina D'Arcangela ~ 5 Comments

I sit here awash in a seething rage that has my hands shaking and my mind honed to a razor sharp edge – an edge I would most joyously implement in the destruction of the seat of this anger. Seething is an emotion so primal that it leaves me frothing with the brutal urge to end something – something that does not deserve to be. I exist; this world exists; this world feeds my existence in equal measure to that in which I feed it. I wish to extinguish from my world that which pollutes it.

Darkness is something I am no stranger to; my meandering path has lead me in this direction many times before, yet I have chosen the dim shadows over the darker abyss as I believe myself to be a creature worthy of the lifeline that pulls me back from this dismal pit of consumption. Oh, but to allow myself to be fully submerged in the smothering inky damnation is to be free of my self constraint; to allow the dark to have me gives my soul the chance to sing its song of destruction so alluring that even I beg to succumb to it. It is my Succubus; it is my sacred muse; it is my damning salvation; and it is saved for the worthy. I have found a worthy receptacle, and into it I shall pour my darkness with the glee of the insanity that grips me and rips the vital air I breathe from my shrunken, shriveled lungs – lungs that have filled with the fluid of my disdain; corrupting all that flows from them; this disdain darkening my mind, my heart and my soul…

So deep is this angst of revulsion and shame that I find myself soaring on the wings of darkness; plunging into it’s depths; gliding to it’s apex; and begging those opposing currents to tear me asunder and allow for my full transformation in it’s most hidden recesses.

Darkness, take me deeper into you, allow me to feel you vibrate in every cell of my no-longer worthy yet satiated self. Give me the freedom to soak in the deepest crevasses of a blackened soul. I shall breath you, as a gentle deer breaths the air around it; I shall lavish in you, as an Emperor’s concubine is lavished in the finest silk sheets before being torn to pieces by the beast that owns her; I shall live off your vital fluid as a scorpion lives off the poison it delivers with it’s sting; I shall cherish you, hold you to my bosom and profess my undying devotion to your malevolent enthrall. I shall, if only for this briefest of moments, live you as my own existence – the destroyer of my world; the all encompassing bringer of corruption that feeds my every desire; the baron of my essence – for now you own me Darkness; you own a prize beyond compare, one that will only be yours in the deepest, darkest, seething rage of anger and brutality.

I submit to you while allowing you to enfold me in your soothing, gentle wings; your embrace so deliciously sweet, your stroke so tender and gentle, that I cannot help but melt backward into the darkness that has been unleashed within me… Deeper I go, darker I become, a seething mass of incorporeal sensuality poised in longing for your suckling kiss to drain me… I give myself to you for the taking… though I believe you may have already taken me.

~ Nina D’Arcangela