Dance With Blackness

 

~ Dance With Blackness ~

   

Hallowed out shell of a,

Cracked nut I,

 Gently repose as like. . .

 

Yet, still feeling beautiful-

Touching the silk of black robes,

With a smile adorning my face,

One which churns the night-

To smoldering ash,

Through my own molten heat,

As my lips become drunk on the-

Black shadow seeping down my throat-

                    Spiraling through my breast like silken dust,

Or clothes of a death-like silence,

That pursues me into eternity,

Forcing the night around us into ashes,

Making me exult with this eerie sepulcher,

As though it were a lover . . .

 

And then it-

Draws nearer, tempting me to kiss it-

But my own, sweet gentle brushing-

Causes it to cringe as suddenly as Earth flows,

As a molten ash onto my tongue,

While my lips turn into fire-

Leaving me soon hallowed,

As a dry dust after vicious rage,

The crackling flames of dead tree sinew,

Yet still feeling so lovely,

Through this nothing,

This love,

That cries deep compliments to me-

 

But still it resembles mere darkness,

Dressed in a grace that I can only see,

 Wearing an ash garment,

That spurns every other eye which views it.

 

And I do pray,

Oh God, I pray,

That someone will someday see,

My silent tandem,

With this sweet, quiet shadow-

Doused in the red flames-

Of my burnt conscience . . .

 

Why,

Oh why,

Can they only see it thus,

As the mere frame,

Of bleak, skeletal ashes?