Dark Explosion

Within my heart, a flicker of fire still burns. The threads of flame have mostly drained away from my veins, and I feel broken and damned. My resentment towards them has been increasing steadily. I believe I had every right to defend myself, and my words were deadly weapons I wielded with great skill. I am capable of causing insanity with the softest of whispers, the way a snake's hiss induces panic in a helpless bird. It is not something I am proud of, my temper and my preternatural talents. But in a pinch, I will unleash hell upon the one who has incurred my wrath, and let's be thankful for small miracles because it takes an uncommon soul with courage bordering on recklessness to push me far enough to call upon the fires of hell that simmer under my skin. My explosion last night exhilarated me, because it reminds me once more that I am a child born of the darkest natures, and while most of the time I am a sweet and innocent little boy, I am capable of morphing into a cold, cruel bastard in the blink of an eye. I do not regret such a colossal explosion, one powerful enough to shake the Heavens, and the rain is an unceasing flood of angelic tears. I am mightiest when I am in darkness, and the void that has seeped into my heart has given me strength to deal with the repercussions of my actions. I do not fear persecution, because I have already condemned myself to the deepest levels of hell, and I can sink no further. The blades that I have flung at them last night are imbued with the unique poisons I carry in my heart, and their wounds may never heal completely. It will be a lasting reminder that I am not to be crossed.

Dark Descension II

Looking heavenward, I am reminded that it is a full moon tonight. She has graced us with her unearthly beauty, and the skies seem that much brighter. While she floats high overhead on her lunar throne, I flounder in shadow. I am in a serious fix, and I have no idea what to do. The stars seem to be laughing at me, twinkling merrily as I struggle to come to terms with the facts of my life. Screw them. The pounding in my head refuses to go away, and I find myself reaching out automatically for the bottle. I cannot express some of my pain in words, and it is this part that is so damning. I have a choice. I have a right to seek redemption. But why is it that the first step is always the hardest? I am afraid of my parents' reaction. This is a whole lot worse than the coming-out-fiasco. My whole life has always been about illusions. And now when I have been so terribly weakened by the many battles I fight, I find myself staring at the roiling mass of darkness in the mirror and wondering what the fuck I did to end up this way. Who on God's green Earth can save me from myself? What do I do come morning? What can I do? I do not wish to see the disappointment etched on everyone's faces when I come out of the closet with a whole army of skeletons. I am forcibly reminded of the last time I was incarcerated in the cesspit they call HOSPITAL. Shitty experience and all, I vowed I would never walk back through those horrible glass doors. And now look...I'm actually contemplating going back to seek help. The ironies of life. I have lived with my personal demons all my life, and the thought of letting someone else see how screwed up I am terrifies me more than all of them combined. I cannot even lift my head to seek out the tiny pinpricks of light that symbolise hope for so many of us. If truly the stars represent hope, then maybe it is an omen that they are so far away and out of reach. I am lost, more lost than I have ever been. Esther gave up on me a long time ago, and after that I was resigned to my fate. The passing years have not brought me wisdom on how to deal with myself. I am as lost as I was all those years ago. Salvation. The word escapes me on a puff of air, snatched away by the morning winds. And there goes my salvation.
I am this close to giving up, Raphael. Is there no way to heal me?

Dark Descension

How will I die? I can fool the world with my illusions, but this question haunts me. I won't last through 2008, but I can rest easy knowing that I made indelible footprints in the lives of those who crossed my path. Azrael circles me overhead like a vulture, and my own courage fails me. His shadow chills my soul, but at the same time, I anticipate the liberation of soul from body.
You will never know how much I love you.

Dark Angel

The fallen usually have only one thought: salvation. I have been summoned against my will to help one of my acquaintances, prevent him from spiralling down into the depths of depression. My wings are mangled and tattered, and blood stains my hands a deep crimson. If perception is reality, then in my warped mind I am an angel of the darkest shade of black. This is how I perceive myself, but in his eyes I am a being of great power and compassion. I have neither of these qualities, but when faced with his unspoken pain, I cannot find it in me to tell him that I am unable to help him. My wings are extended tonight, and the breeze ruffles through the trees as I contemplate what my next move will be. True, this boy is barely a friend, but he is one flower in the garden of life, and deep inside me, I know I cannot live with myself if I allow this one to wilt. It is expanding around me, this radius of death, a gradually growing circle, destroying relationships, friendships, lives even. This beautiful garden is marred with the black touch of the Grim Reaper, but to some, to those who live without the veil of ignorance shading their eyes, the garden is made even more beautiful with these deaths. It is a part of life. He expects me to move heaven for him, but I cannot. I have no power over the celestial rulings, and the Fates are meticulous at keeping the balance between the opposites of the world. As it is, I can only draw my wings closer around myself and watch as Destiny rolls the dice. I am a shadowed angel, and I can do no more to help these dying flowers in the eternal garden. *shakes head* I grow colder by the day, and even now as I am handed great power, I am disinclined to channel it to aid my fallen charges. Their lives are their own to live and ruin, and when they finally fall, my shadows will swallow them up into complete oblivion. Maybe then they will know what true suffering is. The darkness is layered over the world like a thick blanket, silencing all unnatural sounds. The night air is chill and the turmoil within me recedes for just a while. I cannot be expected to extend my wings tip to tip to protect the world from the sins of humanity. I can only observe, and what powers I possess to save them are limited by my detachment from their pain. A slight tip of Fate's hand here and there, and suddenly millions are dead, and millions more are born with each day. Yet two persons haunt my conscience, and I wonder vaguely how they expect me to save them from their problems when I, with all these powers at my disposal, cannot redeem myself in his eyes. My mental paralysis will fade with the death of Night, and when the sun is bright in the sky, my compassion will return and force me to save these two. But for tonight, I am the cold and uncaring prince of this dark kingdom, where even the shadows bow before my throne.
I have walked the paths; the shadowed roads that led to terror's breast.
I have plumbed the depths of Hatred's womb and scaled Destruction's crest.
For every secret left unveiled, for every power learned,
I'd sell the remnants of my soul, regardless how it burned.
And still I sought a higher wisdom few could have attained.
Though I found it, it would leave me - broken, damned and drained.
For now I find this power gained is more unto a curse.
My spirit burns with every spell and each irreverent verse.
Despite this strength and knowledge earned, I have paid a heavy toll,
Never should've traded power for my own immortal soul.
- C. Vincent Metzen

Dark Chill

The night is cold and unfamiliar. I sit alone at the table and shiver, wondering when this friend became foe. Have I forgotten how chilly the nocturnal winds can be? 2 weeks, and already I cannot find my way in the dark. Imminent defeat leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Dawn is moments away, and I cannot find it in me to face the world and see my failures magnified a thousandfold in the clear light of day. I stand on shaky ground, and when the earth holding me up finally collapses, will strength of spirit alone be enough to lift me up? Only time will tell. As it creeps past me, and the sands in the hourglass falls like diamonds through my fingers, I whisper a final goodbye to the Night that for so long was a friend, and now seems as foreign to me as the concept of trust.