In the early morning hours of the night's embrace, this is when my thoughts run deepest. Now is when the words flow most freely from the cold, dark wellspring inside. Would you care for a taste? I assure you it is a most bitter draught you would drink, tainted with the foul blood of broken hearts, stirred with the confused miasma of indecision, and mulled with the painful tears of insufferable loss. It is now, when most are safe within the arms of their dreams, when none can eavesdrop on the sounds of my fragmented soul shattering upon its prison walls, it is now that I can drink deep of the dark wine that I loathe to be and release my pen on its drunken rampage to bare my soul. But to whom? What man or woman have I ever allowed to peruse the works of this lunatic heart? What person will ever read this, this masterpiece of self-pity that I now compose? I am not so bold. I could never allow any to see beyond the wall, this ridiculous facade of pleasantry that I wear, the mask never slipping down just a bit to reveal a glimpse of the horrors that I keep hidden.

Everyone has their secrets. All of us have things locked away in the deep, dark corners of our minds that we cannot allow out into the healthy, vigorous parts of our thoughts to poison our everyday brains with the horrid filth that we know is there, buried deep.

And I? I look into the darkness and see it for what it is, all the anger, the guilt, the hatred that is never allowed to show itself to the world. I hold these inside, repressing the pain rather than releasing it upon another. I permit this miracle of agony to work its wonders in the dark recesses of my brain, but why? Is it martyrdom? Or is it because there is a part of me that enjoys the pain, that has become the darkness itself? Yes, something inside wants to be one with the darkness, to join its macabre dance of blissful insanity.

And would you dance with me, dance where no other would dare tread? Or would you, could you take my hand instead and lead me back into the light? Or are you now afraid to touch me? If so, I understand. I have allowed you to taste that which lurks in the shadows of my world, and I can see the horror in your eyes. But I see it for what it is. It is the horror of realization, for I have opened your eyes to the darkness that you have within yourself, and the darkness within my eyes is but a reflection of what is in your own soul. Enjoy.


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