The Darkness

The Darkness

Not sure why it is I’m drawn to the darkness
Or how I’m so easily seduced by the feel of its slick and leathery textures.
Why it’s inky cold blackness/ chose to wrap its/ lightless appendages–tight
Entrapping and dragging me/ to abyssal depths …I have no idea.

Or how it came to be/ that melancholic imagery/ calls to me/
That– I may never know;
But I do know that it does call and I respond each and every time – religiously.
Not so much “gore” for “gore’s sake”/
But more for the gore from the thin crimson line seeping between blackened lips meticulously placed. /
First conceptualized then realized manually manifested by the darker art–ists
The whole twisted ascetic aesthetic is such a vibe/…a defiant style for the deviant mind/
…the misunderstood; A refuge for the odd, haven to the forgotten and home of the exiled.

Could it be Its close association with sadness that’s compelled me to madness?
Because I see a somewhat-somber beauty behind the laced veil of darkness
Heroine chic, there’s a gentle elegance to the pale and colorless.
Murky purple-ish shadows pooled/ below cavernous openings cradling opal eyes sculpted of Sumerian jewels. /
Against moonlit skin half these portals to the soul remain half closed and unused. /

Still not sure why I’m so drawn to the darkness…are you?

By Kareem Quow