HIS DARK SIDE

His Dark Sutra: Silly Thing, Depression

The autoimmune system, collaborates with the autonomic nervous system to create suppressions,
often misconstrued as depression.

I read something, somewhere that simple things like opening eyes,
standing straight, regular exercise,
can all assist to exorcise the demons caused by melancholy.
Perhaps the formula to beat depression is to move ones body.

Because when I reflect on nature and the ebb and flow of trees, plants, flowers
who are unconcerned with the Gregorian calendar and humdrum passing of the hours.
Instead, they sit content
within forests and flower beds, being free.
Moving rhythmically.
Flowing.
And the flow helps to keep them growing.

Somewhere I learnt that lifting the zygotic muscles of the cheeks can help elicit a biochemical cascade of feelings that increase happiness.
Maybe it’s the actions of standing upright and smiling that help lower cortisol to fight sensations of stress.
In any event, life is a beautiful, wondrous thing
Don’t ask about how the world has wronged you, instead focus on the joy you bring.

(A silly poem dedicated to Meadow36)

His Dark Sutra: Diary

23 July 2014
A.M.

Seated on the edge of my bed, as if balanced on a precipice. Teetering on a knife edge.

My feet are relaxed, toes combing through strands of carpet to feel gentle velveteen warmth.

My mouth is tinged with the remnants of coffee, yet I crave more. The cup is on my bedside table. It stands lonely, waiting for the caress of my fingers to lift it toward lips.

Behind me, clothes are laid out on my bed, stacked in neat piles. I stretch my neck taut to turn and look. Grey and black cotton. Underwear and shirts.

A watch sits atop one of the garment structures. How much time do I have? It fails to answer.

The room is mercilessly quiet. Silence sleets down walls, careening towards my ears.

Outside my window, clouds sit heavily atop forests and mountains.

I’d rather sit in silence than watch the world crumbling around me.

There is purity in silence.

Contemplating my existence over black coffee and a book. I read, page to page, cover to cover. Chapters end, as we creep slowly to the culmination hoping for answers and insights. Book of life. Steadily we march forwards. Let today’s book be one of passion and love.

Contemplating my existence over black coffee and a book. I read, page to page, cover to cover. Chapters end, as we creep slowly to the culmination hoping for answers and insights. Book of life. Steadily we march forwards. Let today’s book be one of passion and love.

His Dark Sutra: Diary

21 July 2014
23:38hrs

Lights trail across the valley as my head plants deeply, cushioning into my pillow.

The room is Dark, the gentle glow from my phone shimmering onto my face.

The door is shut (to my bedroom), the warmth of the night being dispensed with via a solitary open window.

There is absolute silence where I live. No vehicles, no voices. No murmurs of civilization rushing past like insectoids desperately attempting to create a legacy for themselves.

No, just silence.

So I listen to my breath.

My neck knife is beside me on a white table. I have removed both talismans which I’ve placed under my pillow. Protection must always be close at hand. Demons are never far.

I sip water throughout the night. Alas, I am a light sleeper, prone to aimless wandering under the moonlight.

I’ll rest. And I’ll lay here quietly until sleep claims me.

Blood

Stained

Tear

Drops.

If I die,

Will you

Remember I?

His Dark Sutra: Diary

21 July 2014
A.M.

Dressed in black haberdash finery.

Blazer, elegant polo and shoes.

Clearly I must be working. Although considering I am seated and typing on my phone, my work either lacks inspiration or I am daydreaming.

I need to run away.

His Dark Sutra: Nightmares and Love

With toil from spidering fingers,
I clawed -
and scratched,
etching my name into your heart.
From the precipice of death
I dragged you back.

With burning fire,
you scorched.
Agony in the dying field of dreams.
The sleep within nightmarish lands.
My hands (on your mouth and throat)
muffled your screams.

At this very second, His Dark Side breaches a Commandment as he sits in pensive silence, killing time.

At this very second, His Dark Side breaches a Commandment as he sits in pensive silence, killing time.

vpache asked: What first interested you in Magic?

Good question.

I was influenced by a Victorian paranormal investigator called Harry Price when I was around 12. I would go to the library and research topics centered around the occult.

By my early 20’s I had experimented with various modes of ritual and quickly discounted the objective use of devices such as the Ouija Board.

Instead my magick practice has contained a spiritual component. I’ve conducted distance exorcisms and regularly use distance healing. I’m certified in Reiki and have been looking at the alchemical processes in Chinese martial arts that I’ve studied for 20 years.

Right now, I’m moving back towards Chaos Magick practice, the simplicity of which I find appealing, especially after my recent foray into Hermeticism.

Everything around us is magickal.

We meet people and although our trajectory is usually aimed only toward their physical localized existence, our energy meets their energy on a subtle level that most of us overlook.

Magick is whispered by nature as the limbs of trees arc toward us when we walk.

Magick is interlocked with nature and is being lost at an exponential rate. Collectively we continue our enterprise toward fragmentation of community and destruction of Mother Earth.

Magick is the seed of this message.

Most people are too blind to recognize it.

I’ve always felt the pull of magick. Always.

His Dark Sutra: In Death

Imagine Death.

Time and distance
Non-existent.

My essence -
Omnipresent.

No obstacles
no bars.
No more -
clenched heart.

My soul
eradicating
your lifetime -
of scars.

We lock
Conjoin
Intertwine.

In Death,
my Universal soul
given -
as thine.

Fitness Progress Report: 16 July 2014

Fitness Progress Report: 16 July 2014

I sent you my picture
Because I want you to remember me.

You stopped sending yours,
Hoping you’d fade from my memory.

His Dark Sutra: Diary

17 July 2014
Night

The coils depress with a groan as I slump onto the bed. The unified entirety of my body is tired. My right knee is sore even during the most rudimentary motions, exacerbated by the burgeoning weight I lifted during my morning exercise.

My meditation this evening will likely be a momentary void binding my waking state with my sleeping state, which will it seems, be a welcomed smooth transition considering the arduous custom of forcing sleep most nights.

Last night I suffered a litany of nightmares where my mind swilled like pigs in a trough. And although I possess cunning and a variety of magickal powers to cleanse, banish and exorcise the spate of attacking jinn, I do not have the willpower at this second.

I will rest.