Dark Fear - Poetry
If one sits still long enough Mushrooms will grow on their skin like edible tattoos. Fungi of every colour, size, and smell sprouting in response to a thought, untouched dreams, and wishes gone away. Eating your own strengthens the resolve; not waste, taken and absorbed back into the collective. Cultivated and naked bodies create enough for the world, assisted in dark rooms, stored away from the sun. Thinly sliced and savoured during parties of ill repute: women dressed in ebon coloured dresses, eyes distorted by mysterious kohl. The men stand to the side, watching like naive children; their purpose is not yet given to them. Samples of everyone lay about within an atmosphere of an opium den - Gothic tragedy creating such sexual frustrations and the removal of limitations. Those who linger beyond the normal, those who savour and taste such fungal pleasures mingled with blood drawn from their own veins, smile as only they can. Their bright violet eyes, their mouths painted wi...