by C. Ikpoh

My pores welcome the essence of the night. The moon's flowing current empties into them at the mouth of their adjoining connection. I can taste the bitter cold afterbirth of the sunset as tar saliva produces remnants from the eternal darkness inside tongues of the silent. All speech is disowned, as this experience is about feeling. It is about embracing. It is about absorption. I am open.
Vulnerability is the aphrodisiac of darkness. It incites a raging passion inside my spirit with a poisonous elixir as sweet as the sleep accompanying death. I am not one to resist it, for mere mortal men know not their own lunar nature. Vulnerability makes me eat as an animal, consuming the night which is only fitting for the beastly soul populating my body. I have been tried in the courts of heavens and sentenced to damnation on this plane, exiled from the luxury of righteousness. The curse of an insatiable appetite lurks in my belly. Vulnerability is my carnal, savage destiny.
The stellar effect above ensues. Christ's sun shall not return. Michael is left to battle with angels against the darkness. A Morning Star boils the moon's water filling my pores, forcing the blood to exit my body and seep into the earth around me. The soil becomes impregnated with my demons, birthing them through sprouts which bud into immortal entities. I give life to the dark as the absence of light grows. The demons surrounding me pass through my body, taking a piece of my soul with each movement, stripping me of ownership. It is what the night wants: to open me. I lean my head back to stare at the distant rock which enchants my flesh. The pupils inhabiting my eyes spread black through the sockets. Vision is pure velvet, adorning all reality with a dark violet hue. I am filled with darkness. I am filled with lunar essence. My demons follow as free spirits while I become the night once my pores close. Transformation completed, I am open no more.