Not every story ends in light. Some curl inward - slow, heavy, and silent - like smoke drifting from a 24-hour poutinerie where something unspeakable just happened. Dark Poutine is that moment. It hits like a blunt object and leaves no witnesses. First comes a jolt of bitter espresso and citrus - sharp, alarming. Then, the slow creep of funk: spice, rich gravy, melting cheese curds. Comforting, but never safe. The finish is damp earth and thick musk. You’re not high. You’re evidence.