Dark limerence,
she thought it not,
a lustful muse,
an artist sought

What happens then,
she’s not to blame,
her dark passenger
feels the same

For art she sits,
once taken in,
the other paints
in scarlet sin

One a killer,
one lets her kill,
leaving naught
but painter still

Lone seductress,
cleaved discrete,
each encounter,
e’er complete

Who’s the artist,
who’s the muse,
they leave together
so needn’t choose

*apologies, I still have Ophilia on the brain
art: What I’ve Tasted by Elly Smallwood


Negative ever feeds negative
it’s a perpetual emotion machine

Akin to ouroboros of its tail
its insatiablity, destructive, obscene

Negative ever seeds negative
sowing discord in the susceptible mind

To some a mere curiosity, while
gardens bloom in the positively blind

Negative ever bleeds negative
ambrosia always collecting its toll

Plumbing the depths of its blackened abyss
forever drowning the unfortunate soul

art: by Blekotakra (Giorgia N.)



Of course he can see the light, who
couldn’t in its desperation to be seen
With its ebullient throes of light-waving
and self-congratulating brilliance

And while admittedly often appealing
on the surface, it is his predilection
to hold judgement, preferring to peer
into its concomitant shadow for clarity

If there’s a silver-lining to every cloud –
a banality for the positivist – then he
thinks also, there must exist a shadow with
every light and shade from each light-minded

For light needn’t a shadow to exist, yet
ever one appears when light is present;
as light fears the solitude, it relies on
the juxtaposed darkness for its adulation

So it casts its shadow of attraction, to
stave loneliness, befriending the negative
light, while slipping into his hand, the
noose for his inexorable demise

Prone to ulterior motives, false reasoning,
and capricious angles, light clusters devour
friend and foe, to be seen in a positive light
Thus, he has no choice but to be a negative one

art: equilibrist by Jodi Hugo

A bit o’cheek

try as he might
to keep it supressed
this torturous feeling
deep in his breast

it’s infecting his mind
his heart and his soul
in danger of changing
to diamond from coal

the comments and likes
for wrongs that he’d write
made him feel good
and showed him some light

the senations are gross
and not quite to par
but he’ll never admit
that they carry him far

how many followers
e’er read what he’s sent
he feels like a rich man
so, like one percent

thus a hid agenda
this thanking surprise
is doomed in the end
to fall on deaf eyes

alas ne’er a quitter
he’ll fight to amend
this wanton violation
until his bitter end

he’ll brood in the darkness
and spill all his ink
but of surrounding lit candles,
he’ll gratefully think



Too sad
Too dark
Too gross
Too weird
Too bloody
Too laconic
Too whiney
Too suicidal
Too verbose
Too trusting
Too unfunny
Too nihilistic
Too sensitive
Too troubling
Too unfocused
Too unpopular
Too unfriendly
Too depressing
Too mistrusting
Too complicated
Too inconsistent
Too intimidating
Never the one, always the too


The spider steeped
in darkness creeped
beyond her veil of sight

It caught instead
her thought in web
so nightmares come this night

Within her dreams
of nightmare themes
an insect bound was she

Awake she shivered
her soul delivered
thus had the power he

When next they met
was she who crept
into his nightmare den

His web of lies
was his demise
she’d not get caught again

Thus unaware
that she would dare
to retrieve her stolen soul

Her newfound power
then made him cower
and she woke now once more whole

Corrupt with power
she’d simper then glower
spinning a web or three

Thus unaware
and with not a care
became the spider she