Find more dark, surreal art at:
For my social media and website crew only…
25% off almost every original and print in the store.
To get started, click the coupon link here or mash the big image below.
This week only. Through April 19th.
All my dark lady original paintings – 50% off.
Here’s what’s up.
If you buy any one of the following four books, I’ll send you a free art print of your choice. No restrictions. Any art print from my catalog you like.
I’ve got a fun conversation-starting book, a sci-fi thriller, a futuristic novella, and a dark dystopian tale.
All you have to do?
Same-day shipping. Free. US residents only.
The art prints?
See you soon.
J Edward Neill
Am I dead, I asked her?
In a box, I did molder,
rotting, shapeless, my nightly sleep.
Dead, but dreaming, of what waited
beyond my comfortable dirt, beyond
my opulent world of worms and disquiet.
But when they asked, wake me none I said
until the day my box is broken.
And then the first of dreams
drained through the holes where nails once lay.
I listened. I woke. And pushed away the cold dirt.
My insides, new, pumped with raw life,
and I recalled the days I’d never lived.
The moon, she burned my face. My eyes, she scalded
with such light my box never allowed.
Still hushed, she bade me walk beside her,
and her smile drank away my grave-dust.
For hours, we tread lightly
On the shadowed fields, unseen.
Of the world below, of worms, of coffins, she asked,
and for the moon, we floated high,
in the wind, the light, and nothing.
But to the silver jewel, we never did come,
for at last, she saw the dusk within,
and feared, with me, the sun
would not rise.
Quickly, we climbed back down.
The dirt waited, starved of me.
Where now will you go? the dream asked me in lament.
To sleep, I said. My home, it is,
in my tomb, dead but dreaming always.
Down, she lay me, shining no more, but gloaming
as I slid into bed, shivering.
Again, I’ll see you? she asked.
Long from now.