The Death Of Poetry Will Be The Death Of Me #786408

The real horror is not fiction. It's the reflection staring back at you.

You’ve seen the same old mishmash of silver and wooden stakes. Now, put away your predictable lines and look closer. Darren Hobson’s poetry drags you past the veil of innocence and into the true darkness: a perpetual nightmare where the sun might not rise, where your mistakes become deadly, wandering souls, and where the world is just a pin prick in the game of an intergalactic monster.

This is not poetry that asks for approval. It is a continuous transmission from territory most writers avoid, driven by blunt honesty and dark humour. Whether charting the insanity of a ghost trapped in a century-long cemetery loop, or the vile reality of a society consuming its own chaos, Hobson is the unapologetic tour guide to your deepest discomfort.

The world is already close to insanity. Why seek illusion when you can embrace the terror?

If comfort and illusion fall away, what’s left? Fear.