It varies. There is a poem I wrote recently for my poetry class that's sort of dark and monochromatic and switches from mental to physical according to the people in my class. That's the only recent dark thing I can think of besides a fanfic I'm writing on and off on.
Enshadowed thoughts, enshadowed minds,
enshadowed chains, holds, and bindings.
A shadowy room with a darkened lamp,
filled with figures with shadowy hands.
Shadowed blade cuts deep, so deep;
blood - black blood - pools at the shadows feet.
Enshadowed hands clench and shake,
trying vainly to find a shadowed escape.
"Why? WHY?" cries the enshadowed soul,
quaking in confusion and pain in the dark;
but the shadows don't answer, they just close in,
a suffocating presence, oh death-dealing fiends.
Cries in the shadows fail and fade,
only echoes remain and disappear in shame.
Shadowy figures slip away,
leaving behind only a shadowy space.
Black blood dries and cracks at the base
of a shadowy table with an enshadowed frame.
Enshadowed hands hang, limp and useless;
a shadowed form lies still, broken and forgotten.