Dandy of Darkness

Darkness. There are times in everyone's life when the darkness that inhabits all our souls threatens to snuff the flame, the inspiration, the creation. But when those cruel, midnight tentacles reach from the ebon void, I take to them with the nimble fingers of Arachne and weave them into poetry both dreadful and beautiful, wicked and sublime.

Sometimes this dandy's life is absolutely null and void of Prometheus' cherished spark. Thankfully, any feeling, even those macabre and destructive, those of the secret world of mutilation and horror, can be used to inspire one to creation.

Rarely ever do I post my darkest poetry, my secretest words of woe here in this forum. Doing so presents my deepest emotions for open ridicule and scorn. For example, Michaud, (who is gay again - much on that later my dears), criticizes my poetic verse, saying its insipid and odiferous. Perhaps he was searching for beauty where he only should have been looking for pain. In Gayest Neil's darkest heart there lies often only the chilling, brutal terror of a single ragged voice screaming out for release into an empty, utterly empty, void...