Deep Dark Seething Anger

Deep dark seething anger – most people think they’ve felt it before; most people believe themselves capable of acting on it when necessary; but what does it really take to bring you to a level where every moral fiber, every standard and value, every string of logic that forms you, is screaming “this is wrong” but you don’t care, you allow yourself to move forward into the deepest, darkest realm of your own mind?  What does it take to piss off a writer to the point that they no longer avoid run-on sentences, bad punctuation, and peer judgment?  The answer is simple, ‘ass’.

Not the kind that you seek out on a Friday night at your local meat market pickled in a brine born of hops, wheat or honey; not the kind that is enslaved to allow you to leisurely ride through a national park so you don’t have to bother putting foot to soil; but the kind that comes bottled in a package of infantile inadequacy that believes itself to be superior.  Some of you will understand that comment to be true and just, while others will find it a ridiculous ramble… I judge neither, but I will delve into my feelings about the darkness ‘ass’ brings to an otherwise well adjusted, meaningful & happy life.

Deep… Dark… Seething…

I sit here typing awash in a seething rage that has my hands shaking and my mind honed to a razor sharp edge – an edge I would most joyously implement in the destruction of the seat of this anger.  Seething is an emotion so primal that it leaves me frothing with the brutal urge to end something – something that does not deserve to be.  I exist; this world exists; this world feeds my existence in equal measure to that in which I feed it.  I wish to extinguish from my world that which pollutes it.

Darkness is something I am no stranger to; my life has lead me in this direction many times and yet I have chosen the dim shadows over the darker abyss as I believe myself to be a person worthy of the lifeline that pulls me back from this dismal pit of consumption.  Oh, but to allow myself to be fully submerged in the smothering inky damnation is to be free of my self constraint; to allow the dark to have me gives my soul the chance to sing it’s song of destruction so alluring that even I beg to succumb to it.  It is my Succubus; it is my sacred muse; it is my damning salvation; and it is saved for the worthy.  I have found a worthy receptacle, and into it I shall pour my darkness with the glee of the insanity that grips me and rips the vital air I breath from my shrunken, shriveled lungs – lungs that have filled with the fluid of my disdain; corrupting all that flows from them; this disdain darkening my mind, my heart and my soul…

So deep is this angst of revulsion and shame that I find myself soaring on the wings of darkness; plunging into it’s depths; gliding to it’s apex; and begging those opposing currents to tear me asunder and allow for my full transformation in it’s most hidden recesses.

Darkness, take me deeper into you, allow me to feel you vibrate in every cell of my no-longer worthy yet satiated self.  Give me the freedom to soak in the deepest crevasses of a blackened soul.  I shall breath you, as a gentle deer breaths the air around it; I shall lavish in you, as an Emperor’s  concubine is lavished in the finest silk sheets before being torn to pieces by the beast that owns her; I shall live off your vital fluid as a scorpion lives off the poison it delivers with it’s sting; I shall cherish you, hold you to my bosom and profess my undying devotion to your malevolent enthrall.  I shall, if only for this briefest of moments, live you as my own existence – the destroyer of my world; the all encompassing bringer of corruption that feeds my every desire; the baron of my essence – for now you own me Darkness; you own a prize beyond compare, one that will only be yours in the deepest, darkest, seething rage of anger and brutality.

I submit to you while allowing you to enfold me in your soothing, gentle wings; your embrace so deliciously sweet, your  stroke so tender and gentle, that I can not help but melt backward into the darkness that has been unleashed within me… Deeper I go, darker I become, a seething mass of incorporeal sensuality poised in longing for your suckling kiss to drain me… I give myself to you for the taking… though I believe you may have already taken me.

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About Nina D'Arcangela

Nina D’Arcangela is a quirky horror writer who likes to spin soul rending snippets of despair. She reads anything from splatter matter to dark matter. She's an UrbEx adventurer who suffers from unquenchable wanderlust. She loves to photograph abandoned places, bits of decay and old graveyards. Nina is co-owner of Sirens Call Publications, co-founder of the horror writer's group 'Pen of the Damned', and if that isn't enough, put a check mark in the box next to owner and resident nut-job of Dark Angel Photography. View all posts by Nina D'Arcangela

6 responses to “Deep Dark Seething Anger

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