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Darkly Dreaming Demographic.

Where weird shit hits bizarre fans.

Crying isn’t enough

Enough, you are everything-

I dreamed and so much besides,

I feel myself spiralling,

Call, I’ll be at your bedside.

I feel our hearts opening,

But just ever so slowly,

Your arms warmest homecoming,

Give myself to you wholly.

Sometimes we may disagree,

But my love please don’t rebuff,

There’s no one else, nobody-

On earth I could love enough.

The other side

Divine, our love unearthly,

By now it’s beyond doubting,

Fire inside burns perversely,

And shows no signs of outing.

I love you most certainly,

As the sun falls and rises,

A kiss would be heavenly,

The lips of mother Isis.

Your love precious emerald,

Like your eyes, our hearts entwine,

All the angels assembled,

To make a love most divine.

Call to arms

Calling, your arms awaiting,

I must be dreaming surely,

The feelings not abating,

I’m clinging to it dearly.

Your smile deep down awakens,

Something good that I forgot,

A soul who’s love embraces,

As pure as each small raindrop.

Your smile is sweet perfection,

Tried to hold on but falling,

I long for your affection,

I think I hear you calling.

The morning after

Morning my love awakened,

I’ll kiss your lips so sweetly,

Hold you, pray this never-ends.

Fitting together neatly.

My love you are beautiful-

Beyond words, your eyes transfix,

Our love could be musical,

The wall of your heart conflicts.

But I won’t be disheartened,

Inside I feel this yearning,

Love that won’t be discarded,

So it can wait til morning.

One becoming

Become more than fantasy,

My love I feel you nearing,

Before you was agony,

Now birds are all I’m hearing.

Kiss your lips pure elation,

My hand on your cheek, rapture,

My chest a warm sensation,

I’m yours now, you’re my captor.

I would die so happily,

I’d smile sweetly and succumb,

If I held you wantonly,

Musing on what we’d become.

Saying goodbye

Goodbye my love forever,

Your memory torn and faded,

I still try to remember,

I cling to it as sacred.

Despite your cold callousness,

Your visage I still adore,

My faith in you blasphemous,

My devotion I abhor.

Still I see you everywhere,

In the corner of my-eye,

Hounded, maimed by deep-despair,

Yet I still can’t say goodbye.

Romantic encounter

Lovely my dear enchanting,

You have me at your mercy,

Your charms I’m not withstanding,

But we don’t have to hurry.

To kiss your lips, anything,

I’ll cross the farthest ocean,

To give you a wedding-ring,

And other foolish notions.

I love you, it’s obvious,

I feel so dumb and lucky,

Trick or something glorious,

I just think you’re so lovely.

Cur 2 Chapter 16 ‘There can only be one’

“I HAVE COME FOR THE LIFE OF ONE!” a strange warbling displaced voiced seemed to screech not from the head but from the hip of the rider. -“BUT I WILL TAKE ALL IF YOU DO NOT SEND OUT THE CREATOR!” The figure was tall and seemed abnormally proportioned under a set of tuathan mail. His head and neck were stiff and motionless as if carved from wood and wax to look like that of the former king of the Tuatha; Nuada Airgetlám. The waxen face glinting ominously in the light of the magical flame sword and the torches around him.

The imposter had taken Bres’s thrown and what was left of his army. Now he marched on the last living souls that knew he was not truly Nuada. Not the Nuada that had taken this isle and renamed it so but a crude copy that nevertheless shared his flesh and would seize it by force.

“YOU HAVE ONE HOUR BEFORE I BURN THIS KEEP TO ASHES!” The hideous guttural displaced voice screeched.

Bres walked for what felt like hours towards the cyclopean spire. In a trance it seemed his march in time to some tune that no human ears could hear. A steady heartbeat exuded from the tower. Before he could fully process his surroundings he was in a throng of strange creatures some not unlike those from the ship. But others far more hideous and monstrous in aspect. So much so he didn’t care to look at them at all and just pushed forward through them to the base of the spire.

As he approached it he could make out faintly, what sounded like blades clashes. Or perhaps teeth gnashing and inhuman warbling of a crowd made up of the denizens of this eldritch keep of unknown aeons.

The base of the spire consisted of a gaping oval maw that seemed much too large an entrance for the squat toad like creatures he had encountered so far. Were they perhaps not the original inhabitants he mused to himself dreamily as he approached the sounds of combat in a daze. Drawn to the dreaming spire as if the waves themselves propelled him.

He was slowly swallowed by the grand maw, inside the keep it was large and cavernous, sounds billowing off every unevenly cragged wall. The inside was half castle half cave but also seemed almost living like it was part of a reef of coral. Or perhaps the inside of some strange prehistoric beast all bones and cartilage fossilized for a thousand years or more.

Inside there were more of those toad like creatures but from then on the mass was more inconsistent. There seemed not to be one race down here but a collection of malformed denizens that seemed to ooze from the very walls. Some on two legs, some on just one, some even crawled on their bellies like vipers or eels. Every one of them was a vile experiment not of nature but of some twisted intellect beyond man’s comprehension.

Their attention was drawn to a crude yet well adorned arena. Constructed from what looked like bones and skin of some never before seen sea creature.

Inside the arena an amorphous mass of grey shapeless flesh bubbled like porridge in a pot. Something vaguely humanoid sinking into the mass as it gurgled and belched. The crowd gibbering louder as whatever it was sunk deeper into the mass until it was completely devoured.

Immediately after that the crowd swelled once more and suddenly the former king felt a sinister energy amassing around him. As if a million bulbous eyes were focused on him alone. Instantly he could feel their slimy appendages gripping him. Forcing him closer to the hideous bubbling mass of unnameable horror.

He struggled against the horde but their collective force was as crushing as the tide itself, immovable and irresistible. Before he could cry out in protest he was himself in the arena face to indescribable mass congealing in front of him.

Panicked the former king cried out “I am Bres, King of the Tuatha, I come to seek an audience with my father!” He rose his hand into the air to display the ring his mother had given him, the ring that he was meant to present to his father so he would know him. But the ring was gone. Undoubtedly snatched up by one of the many slimy sticky appendages that thrust him into the uncertain doom he now faced.

He had turned his back to the creature to display his now empty hand, he could hear it; it’s vile belching, as it shifted and changed. Bres turned, his body stiff with fear, standing before him was an exact duplicate of himself.

I just might die

Dying, your lap awaken,

I thought I was just dreaming,

Perhaps I was mistaken,

She’s gone and there’s no meaning.

Heaven, sainted Avalon,

None could come close or compare,

The joy you brought off-and-on,

Measured now by deep despair.

What now? I’ve been wondering,

As I sit alone sighing,

Do I keep on blundering,

Or just continue dying.

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