Here is the intro from the forthcoming Dark Angels. It lets you know a little bit about what it's about, and why it needed to be. More info about Dark Angels can be found at: http://johnhopperwriter.blogspot.co.uk/p/dark-angels.html
We are never alone – creatures and spirits always surround us, pass through us…are us. We interchange and we inter-carnate. They fuck with us, and we fuck with them…part of the dance. We mess with their space as much as they mess with ours. Worlds sit on worlds, worlds clash and tumble, bleed and grate – creatures, spirits, humans, slumber and sludge…and then there’s those angels. Dark angels are the only angels there are. Part angelic, part demonic, twin peaks of the same system. They dance and they sing around us, swirling around our weakened souls, looking for an entryway, looking just to fill their day. We are big red houses, we are knock-kneed digital remasters, we are nursery rhymes during a car crash…and we are alive, always alive.
‘Dark Angels’ is a book because it needs to be. ‘Dark Angels’ is a peak - episodes of sliding understanding. ‘Dark Angels’ is a slab of reality in a world of cultured unreality. Never believe those that tell you that angels don’t exist, they surely do: with aged leather wings, long bony hands, stumps for feet, with scabbed skin covered in tattoo sigils. With pleading eyes and dry tongues, they wait around every corner, they stand at the end of your bed, they sit next to you on the train, they comfort and whisper to you when you watch yourself in the mirror, they mumble from within the walls. Chants and incantations are part of their message, damp sex and a craving appetite for pain is another. We are tied to our angels, and in our twisted reality/unreality, they are tied to us. So take some time, take a look at the following slices of shadow and glimmer, at the vignettes of disclosure, and see if any strike a chord, make a connection, get you to nod in understanding, in recognition…Dark Angels, one and the same.
The text for this book is purposefully dense – there are no handy paragraphs. It is a breathless cascade, like a non-stop incantation/lamentation of a journey through elements of angels: in dance, in lust, in creature, in truth, in death.
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