To condemn a man
The darkness enraptures him, it disguises every inch of his being until he is one with the night. The shadow caresses him, lightly it touches his flesh, the taut and ugly skin which disfigures his face. A tenderness plays over him, the chaste fingers of a love lost and later - through hardship - renewed. He resents the timid affection of light's absence. The faux fidelity of night, which in time will betray him to the harsh brilliance of daylight. Time and again it has given him up, peeling away to fall into the desperately seeking arms of another, so he finds no solace here.
A lipless muzzle offers a bitter snarl to the world. His brows, hairless as the day he was birthed into this harsh and unforgiving existence, knit together and he is the picture of cold indifference. His Brother has fallen away into the black abyss, he knows he follows but at what pace he can't determine beyond foolishly slow. So in to new lands he goes alone, arrogant but uncertain, never the confident brazen young beast he might have been. Rejection hangs from him like vines, weighs him down until he feels as though his paws are encased in mud.
It is this well tended fear, harboured and nourished until it burns in every inch of his body, that makes him embrace the dark. Hidden where none can se him unless he wishes it, disguised as being nothing short of normal. Perhaps, in this pitch black emptiness he can even be called handsome... Perhaps.
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