Title: Black
Author: Elandae (j_3101@yahoo.ca)
Pairing: Just DW
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: hum...this is dark-ish (well, more whiny), but there’s not anything disturbing in it.
Disclaimer: I make no claims to…well anything. This is just an angsty- bit of whatever you call this thing I did while in a lousy mood that probably should never see the light of day, but here it is.
Author’s Notes: The song lyrics are from ‘Prayer’ by Disturbed. I had that song on while I wrote, add to it one very pissy mood, and ta-da, out comes Black. This piece is dedicated to Cat, whose black is nothing like this.
All the
cries you're beginning to hear
Trapped in your mind, and the sound is deafening
If people were colors, he was black. Not just on the surface, all the way through, every inch, every little part a shade of black that put nothingness to shame. Black like an empty void, but he was not empty, not even close. The blackness filled him, consumed him, was him. He fed on light, devouring it until there was no more, until white was black. That was his ambrosia. The sweetest taste imaginable dancing across his tongue, a vivid flavor that burned, that seared…..that addicted.
Living
just isn't hard enough
Burn me alive, inside
Living my life's not hard enough
Take everything away
He saw the black in other people, reached out to it. Burn me. Sear me. Taint me with your impurity. Mix my black with yours, make it darker, richer, inexplicable. Something so ugly is hurts, so ugly it becomes beautiful.
Another
taste of the evil I breed
Will level you completely
Black intrigued him, drew him in, urged him on, but could never have the appeal of white. White captivated him, it’s vivid purity made more by the black he left. The contrast pleased him, how could something be purely impure?
Bring to
life everything that you fear
Live in the dark, and the world is threatening
Black
was pure. In it’s unchanging darkness, in its unfaltering objective. That was
pure. Its motives true, never lacking, never compensating, never excusing. The
purity of darkness. Black. Wholly, completely. All consuming, in its placid
aggression, its silent scream, its sharp flatness. Black.
Return
to me
Leave me no one
Turn to me
Return to me
Cast aside
It claimed, it possessed. It made him whole, he belonged to the darkness. So, if people were colors he was black. Not dark, but absent of light. Light was not missing, not lost, merely absent. Not wanted, not needed, not there. Black. A purer form of light to be found where there was none.
The End.