Frank Miller - Daredevil #174-177

curious object in my hand, woman/teenager gone, bizarre instrument foreign land, disappearing liaison; far-off frozen sand, I demand save me from this isle of man.   "Just shadows in the fog."

Incremental loss unnoticed. Ignored. Red slurpee disaster. Bedside love revealed. Dance club heat enjoyed. Man lost in hurt. Desire given wide berth.  "No amount of study or research can stop whatever it is that's destroying the sky...."  

Bright bright James Dean daylight katana blade fight, slash flip throw all in plain sight, machine gun bursts, explosions galore, man oh man, do I want more. "Listen to what I'm saying. With your skills, we could make some easy money."

Frank heaves the dusty, splintering crate from the flatbed of the truck. He breathes weakly, his body skinny as a chicken bone. Never been good at anything else, he thinks, sweating in the New York heat. No one who counts notices the daring daylight theft. "I can see it!"

Hair-soaked, standing before the bag, he is an unimposing sharpness, a body forged to figure and spin and strike. Inside, his red intuition whispers and questions. Something has long haunted his life. Black sheet ghosts of the past. "That's the kind of girl I'd like to settle down with, pretty but not too pretty." Note: For a moment, Doc James confused Karen Carlson with Carol Bagdasarian. He feels badly about this.

poison seeping  burning circle, dystopian amulet spawns father nightmare babylon.   fragile candle hopeful ray, utopian amulet dawns  ghostly daughter eidolon.   "This is everybody's future."  

Memory. Ghost. Mystery. Joke.  History. Blood. Rose. "Well, I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about what the Polish people think!"

Cigar whisky jealousy. Sad sad man. Moustache in darkness. Moustache flaking skin and long dead fingernail growth. Daddy put me inside you. She will understand. "You've truly taken your father's place."

Blistered, peeling rot stretches reality like spandex, tears through cotton innocence,  erupts from places of pleasure and rest, a geyser of inverted, twisted blood,  a sound of sharp steel dragged along a pipe, piercing your ears.  A crime born of sleep.   "Well, all the lawyers got fat and the judge got famous, but someone forgot to sign the search warrant in the right place and Krueger was free just like that."

The night bleeds red rain, beating hearts aflame, pummeling lives like meteors into moonrock. Grand adventure awaits this drifting spectral waylaid soul. An adventure of darkness and love and woman divine. "There is nothing bigger than the night, Batman, and the eternal blackness beyond."