Bible Black



Your cigarette, your dress. Those curious eyes that seek me out in my dreams as the sky grows bible black. It whispers, and it condemns. It fingers and itches and seduces like the marble gods that knock on my window in the dead of night. In a gust of wind, the universe tickles your ear as you stand there observing the town as it glistens before you like the lights of a Christmas tree. Do you care? Do you want them to believe in what you are, or have you become like me, indifferent to all but those who know what it feels like to be broken but whole? Days of boredom. Days of fire. One without the other just won’t do. It snows and we dance and then in the blink of an eye it’s summer and we stroll through suburbia unsure of where to go next. There’s romance and there’s fucking. There’s indifference and secret pain. There’s a cat sat in a window that watches me at the same time every morning on my way to work. One day I’ll take a photo and prove that I’m not lying. One day I’ll figure it all out and finally be someone worth loving. Your cigarette, your dress. Those words you speak and the scent of your pale neck that drifts to me through the damp air. In a giddy state, we become immortal. In the second or so it takes for us to synch, time loses its meaning and the nature of death becomes useless. The worst part of being like this is that you will never know how much I love you. The sucker punch is that although you’re on my mind each and every day, you’ll think I’ve forgotten all about you. But the truth is that you’re my girl, and despite the distortion and despite the rage, deep within my heart I still feel you as the centre of my universe, and with each breath you take, I see birth and hope as if they never existed before you came into my life. And this is why I’m still writing to reach you. It’s why I do the things I do because every other level of life just leaves me feeling empty and without.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

11 replies »

  1. I think that the term “Bible Black” has just burned itself into my vocabulary. Completely swept by this. On some level I think all women want to be that woman. The one that can’t be forgotten. The one the others don’t quite compare to. Unless stalking is involved– then less enticing and more scary

    • I took it from a song by King Crimson called ‘Starless and Bible Black’. It’s very haunting and worth a listen.
      It’s funny you should mention stalking. I was thinking only the other day how an obsessive writer with a muse is quite like a stalker. The difference, for me at least, is that my obsessions go into creating, hopefully, a bit of magic, whereas a stalker misses the magic bit completely.

      • Unfortunately stalking has been a little too much on my mind lately. Both Brave and Reckless and Blood Into Ink have been attracting some unsettling followers. I know it goes with the territory but believe me when I say they are not creating magic.

      • Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that. I have a cousin who was stalked across thousands of miles by some weirdo. It’s strange how people can have the ingredients for magic at their fingertips and yet end up creating something far less wondrous. I hope your unwanted followers wise up and see themselves for what they are.

      • I think that there are people who think they know us and start to project fantasies on us of how we will act and respond and then are thrown when we don’t follow the script. I would assume that this happens to you often as well. Sometimes its a harmless understanding sometimes, not so much. Following someone thousands of miles speaks of a feeling of ownership that is unnerving.

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