Saturday, February 13, 2010


violet. velvet. darkness. utter-black. no ground to stand. no ceiling to contain. not a wall. not a fence. no perimeter. no diameter. nothing bound, yet nothing free. eternal abyss stretching infinitely out into the black, blacker, blackest, and blacker still. in all directions... forever, and farther still... close, so close. too close. suffocating, yet never drowning. an epicenter, but no symmetry. a scale without balance, yet perfectly perpendicular. a void. filled and emptied. emptied and filled. vain. like a breath - a hard. heavy. breath. the kind you'd rather not take, but cannot do without. voluminous waves of nothing surge in to fill. coagulate. solidify. dissipate. nullify and surge back out.

and here you are. DARKANGEL. epicenter of vanity. peace perfected by war. life completed in death. clouds. heaving. rising. falling. surging. white. black. violet. dark. twisting. together. apart. deafening silence. quiet roar. DARKANGEL. there you are. your hair, a silver vision. whirls in the emptiness and across a universe of space. yet close, ever close to you. your body, an ever changing veil of darkness. sometimes smooth. as it flows. sometimes rough. sometimes transparent. sometimes opaque. your brow, a contrast to the void. alabaster and proud. framed in swirling silver locks. soft with cold compassion. hard with hot hate. feeling is not in you. yet your motion betrays emotion.

your eyes. DARKANGEL. the only light in this void. a cold, very cold, white light. blank and cold. blank and cold. and somehow dark., darker. black even. scanning the abyss with freezing precision. DARKANGEL. you are searching. for that one, minute particle of nothing that is not suspecting you. that one minuscule fragment of space that subconsciously knows you're looking for it. him. himself. and when you find it. him. your head will flash across time with a thunderclap. and then your wings. you spread them wide. black and white with fluorescent blue rippling across feathers of death and down. black fire erupts on the wingspan as ashen-white smoke billows behind and dissolves into the blackness. your white, cold eyes fix and lock upon the particle. blank and cold. blank and cold. the particle floats and does whatever it is that particles of nothing do. but the ANGEL is coming. YOU are coming.

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