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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue of cc&d (v246) (the November / December 2013 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Art is not Meant to be Touched cc&d 2013 collection book		get the 374 page July - Dec. 2013 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Rave

Tara Day

    This place is reigned by eternal night. The daylight once tried to pierce through but the feeble rays were cast out by the mimicked windows painted over with black. There are no shadows here, just
    Patterns
    Of darkness thrust onto the wall – shapes that blend into the mass of souls we attempt to push through, accompanied by all the pleasurable moans that are lost to the whispers that
    Penetrate my skull.
    Any pretty face here is worth killing for but I raise no blade. She leads me through the sea of faces and I hold onto her hand
    Like a little boy lost.
    Multicolored lights – green, purple, blue, and yellow – play across her skin and she glows, escorting me through this rainbow hell, but I would follow her
    Anywhere. Like sacrificial suicide.
    She is the beacon – a star brighter than the visages of otherworldly creatures we pass by quickly, like comets. Her movements lift the moonbeamed cascade of hair from her face, pale and serene. She was named well.
    Christened by beautiful chaos.
    As she stops, listening to the music that thunders from the walls and shakes my bones, I am mesmerized by her mere presence.
    My decadent charade sings out and
    Her eyes, a vibrant hue of green, are neon with excitement like a kaleidoscope. She moved her limbs to and
    With every sound.
    All I want is to embrace her. And as she leans up to kiss me, I feel like I am selling my soul to this hell, my animated form signed off to this charming devil. Everything is primal now – an animal instinct. A carnivorous urge that burns like fire.
    Inside I am transformed.
    Burned. Blackened. Around me the wolf pack howls, enticed and enraged. I was cut off once. Sensitivity and substance. She is my energy now. I am marked. High on pheromones.
    Left for pleasure alone.

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