The Darkness Is A Womb Of Endless Fire!

The darkness is a womb of endless Fire!

As we cross the Abyss upon the tightropes of our lives, most cannot help but feel some terror when faced with the enormity of the silent vastness of eternity.

Learning the truth, some do go mad.

I have watched men throw themselves headfirst into oblivion.

Some have built for themselves golden temples in which they offer up babies to the useless idols of war and commerce.

They have forgotten that all gods are false who shackle the mind and blind the heart.

Most people will do anything to avoid facing themselves. They instead worship desires, propitiate fears, and dwell in temples of trembling delusion.

Often, they will do anything but acknowledge the truth. Anything but sit quietly with the nameless unknowable mystery.

It seems only a few ever discover that its gift is freedom. They are serene who grasp the power of their own insignificance.

In all of this, never forget that you have a choice.

You can listen to the false comforts of the smiling faces and give your life to other people's stories, or you may write your own upon the skin of the Night.

It’s a thin choice, and neither leads much to sanity. But one offers fear while the other, wonders.

So… Be not afraid!

The darkness is a womb of endless Fire!

Can you not feel how the emptiness yearns to overflow? Can you not see how Nothing desires to become? Chaos tears itself apart in order to be filled with Light, and I wish so deeply to be luminous.

To shine.

To constellate.

To add my warmth and light to others.

Will you shine with me? If only for a moment? Like dancing embers winking in the dark, we are the retinal memories of a million sparks circling a hole in space and time.

That none of this was made for us is no cause for alarm.

Just hold my hand that we may burn the brighter and mark a small point upon distant eyes.

©️ JM Tiffany 2024

Drug

If I was a drug, I would be the kind that kills you slowly, the kind that licks the color from your skin as it drinks the time from your veins. If I was a drug, I would be the kind that gives you visions, the kind that flows a river of pleasures into the sensual terrors of sleepless, fevered dreams. If I was a drug, I would be the kind that loves you with hooks and chains, the kind that runs down your chin until the pain fades like flowers in Autumn. If I was a drug, I would be the kind you take to face the livid light of day, a quick shameful hit followed by a deep onyx dive into shuddering depths. I would suck you greedily into my ravenous mouth, and sinking red nails into your sighing flesh, you would beg me for release. I would comfort you like a lover and, when you would part from me, I would drive a great black train down dark tracks through the canyon of your heart. I would call your name in the hoarse tongue of ravens and you would answer with fear and longing. I would cling to you like smoke and follow you like anxious thoughts. As you suckled at my venomous breasts in the shadow of my black wings, I would open for you like a noctiflorous bloom, and swallow you whole.

© JM Tiffany 2024

Red Kisses & White Bones

All we are we are together, falling forever in delicate dissaray.

Sun and moon, separate but not severed, we encircle the sky.

Red kisses and white bones.

The wolf and deer exchanging skins.

© JM Tiffany 2024

Divine

I forgive you for the words they put in your mouth. And I forgive you for the blood dripping from your hands. I know that you never held a spear. But as I sit here speaking to the silence there is no comforting hand. No gentle shepherd to coax me home. There is only the quiet and the lie. And the stillness is divine. ©️ JM Tiffany 2024

Between The Nights

Please remember me tomorrow and hold my light, as soft as kisses, between the nights, Dear, for I have gone to dwell within your chest

There let me serenely reside, beyond the pains of gods and hells, that I may drink from that well and find rest.

Do not let my presence disturb you, Dear, but let me play in the sweetest memories of our brightest days to wait for you there, smiling, until the close of time.

©️ JM Tiffany 2024

Phantasmata

They don’t trust my glass hands and haunted brain.

The steady light in my open chest spins a wheel, but they only see the shadows it casts. Each rotation of the inward spiral presents dark mirrors and candescent forms in turn. The watchers fear the fire and distrust the gloom as I paint lovely horrors on the flesh of the night. Repulsive and alluring, they see me as some kind of strange black prism in a shuttered room. To them, I am a living phantasmagoria. Mostly feared, and sometimes desired, they all say I am mad, that I have too many faces, and my edges draw blood. Fools say many things. I tell them stories, a fiery wheel in the shadow of Death, yet never utter a word. They don't understand that I am the controlled blaze in the center, that these fearful images cut into my face reveal only themselves. I watch them shudder, but I am not afraid, for all of my demons are made of light. © JM Tiffany 2024