Day 204: F*** the Dark Voice

F*** the Dark Voice

I’m sick of your taunting, as if you are right, as if you even know

You are slime, like at the bottom of my fish tank, only more fouler, like the smell of the runs

You linger there, in your toilet bowl of scummy mess and await me like the monster Grendel

I do not like you, not one bit, and would hate you, if you were even hate-able

But you’re not, not worth the hate

I wouldn’t decorate you with the compliment

You foul creature I despise

If I could pick you apart, I would start at your heart, or where your heart should be

But you only have a shadowed center, a phantom form, something I cannot touch

That no one can reach

You hide in not existing

You hide in not being there

But yet you taunt louder than a thousand soldiers stomping across enemies’ graves

You don’t even know me

But I think you do

You can’t even see me

But I think you can

You are such a mystery, that if I could admire the maggots crawling out of my rotting dog’s flesh, then I’d admire you

In the way I look at fungus on the skin, or in the way I feel my heart skip a beat

I would admire you with fear and disgust

And that is what you wish

That is what you ingest

Complete fear and disgust

You long for me to take my own self apart, piece by piece

To fear my own body, my own form

Because you are jealous in your non-existence

If you could extinguish me, you can then live

But I laugh at you, you creeping ghost of dark

For I am light, and I shall burn you to a crisp

Take you out before your spindly tentacles reach me

And I shall shine upon your evil breath

The way the scope of knowledge shines against the tainted rulers of masses

And we together shall rise and wash you out

No matter you are invisible and dark

No matter you are unreachable

We shall find you in our souls and bleed you out

And feed you to the tigers of fish

So they can nibble upon you and fertilize the world with your drought

Be gone great master of trickery and ghastly thoughts

Be gone all of your ways that torment this being

For I am no longer alone

And my light multiplied shall corrupt your plans

And leave you helpless, spineless and begging for mercy

And then, in our light, we will scoop you up

Babe in arms, and examine your sweetness, your words, your outcry

And find ourselves staring back with the tender longing for love


Samantha Craft, August 2012