Dark Love - Blog Posts

There is a face beneath this mask, but it isn't me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones beneath that.

— Steve Moore, V for Vendetta

All I want

A cringy "love" poem i wrote at like 7pm last night ~

In love, My love,

I whimper and writhe, 

The flush of your skin is the richest tithe. 

The sweet cacophony of labored breaths and the dull kiss of deaths,

Found in me an expanse so far beyond what I could reach, would reach, if not for you.

My love, In love, with me so dearly

And the press of your knife no longer brings fear to me, 

For it is your hands which bring those sweet tears to me.

In love, My love

On you I dine, the finest could not buy: 

Your scent, your taste, the expanse of your waist, and much more.

Oh, much more indeed,

To love you my dear, brings such greed.

My love, In love,

I cry for you, I bellow and howl to be in your room, in you, 

To feel so dearly your touch, the cloak of night is never enough. 

I stalk the grounds of which you walk and pray some day I’ll hear you talk, to me, Oh, only me, you will speak. 

And know, my love, I’m yours to keep.

Sleep in peace, In love, My love 

The sun will soon rise and we’ll finally meet. 

If you actually managed to read this without crying from second-hand embarrassment then i applaud you, my friend rly liked it so i figured i'd post it, i might post some more of my poetry (its all equally as cringe)

Love....

Love isn't just holding hands, soft caresses or love letters.

Sometimes you have to cut, bruise the ones you love to see their self worth.

Love is painful.

Love can hurt, if it doesn't maybe you don't really love.

A constant ache, a thought that slides through all other thoughts.

Love can be irrational, love can be dark, love can taste like tears.

I love you my moon.

Solar eclipse by Gallery 360

[ No hay sentimiento más doloroso

Que el de olvidar algo que no quieres. ]

[Estos días de soledad.]

Estos días de lluvia.....me recuerdan...

Ese sentimiento crudo de soledad,

No el sentimiento bueno que dicen existe,

El sentimiento de soledad vacía y dolorosa

Me hace pensar y cuestionarme todo a mi alrededor

Ese grado de soledad es enfermito.

-Vladimir Nabokov, from letter to Vera Nabokov dated July 1923, featured in Letters to Vera

💀Are We All Not Waiting For Sleep?💀

Decided to go through some old sketchbook drawings and post them here…

Original Art - Pen & Paper/ Digital Filters

~Spooki🖤

love.

love feels like a dark rainy day in the forest.

love feels like hands doused in paint, desperate to create art, to create, to show how you feel.

love feels like trembling hands begging to touch, to be saved from the darkness.

love feels like a dark rainy day on a deserted beach.

love feels like treading water in an ocean while it rains.

love feels like sweet torment of a blade against your skin, drawing blood.

love feels like drowning in a dark abyss.

love feels like emptiness and wholeness at the same time.

love feels like jumping off a mountain.

love feels like an eclipse.

love feels like hands doused in blood.

love feels like death.