Childish Expeditions to the Basement
We sat in the shadows together
and I couldn't understand their fear
so I curled my knees to my chest and thought
I was different, separate from everyone
and it felt a little bit nice
to be alone
in the dark
with their quick breaths and
squeals of delighted fright.
And I would stay there after they had all
gone, too shaken by the terror
they egged on in each other's
stomachs like cake they
had eaten too much of together,
giggling with the thrill of it as they ran
back up the stairs, into the
jittery electric lights.
And I would stay there, a while.
Until some adult came and
turned on the light, as if
I would have wanted that, thinking
I was sad, maybe, or didn't
want to be alone anymore
(why did adults never seem to understand?)
and the light was always so
bright and terrible
like it was laughing at my
tired, weak eyes
and I would close them tight but
it would still leak in
and when I rejoined the others
playing in the brightly lit
space that others filled
even more alone
and it didn't feel so good
Until I slipped my way back in
to the world of the living and
took my place as the bossy one,
as my eyes forgot how nice the
A happy place
My son’s favorite game when he was very little was hide-and-seek. It was fun for me, too. I would wander around the house, calling out his name while he stood in a corner of a room, giggling quietly…with his eyes tightly closed. Where is Anka? I would say, worry tingeing my voice. Oh my goodness? Where can Anka be? Soon, of course, he would say, full of glee as only a child can be, here I am, Mommy! You couldn’t find me!
How invigorating to have such control over your world: merely close your eyes and disappear into a warm, dark world of your own making...
That darkness? The one in which you find yourself when you close your eyes? That darkness can be blissful. At any moment of the day, you can block out every sensation, submerge yourself in a comforting cocoon.
A blanket of stillness
will envelop you,
calm the mind
heal a weary body
soothe a fractured spirit.
If only for a moment.
Need a minute? Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Embrace the darkness.
Darkness is the Absence of Light
Darkness seeps in the cracks, like the ceramics class you promised yourself you would take, tried once, and left to go do other, more imporant, things.
I stare into my computer screen and flip my pillow over to the cold side. There's no happiness in this life except what makes our dopamine receptors go forward towards the light. The dark side is a cracked coffee pot, or is it the lack of caffeine that keeps us addicted?
In this world, my mother said nothing is certain except death, love, and taxes. If cigarettes make your lungs turn black, does their sex appeal count towards love, or death?
Darkness doesn't creep in, it attacks you like a Picasso painting. It gets absorbed by your synapses in more mundane moments, like taking out the trash or doing the dishes. The analog clocks that we have all shunned in favor of iPhones have hands that grab. Toddlers run around screaming, and their sticky touch brings us back to childhood, or why else do people have children? They will grow up and shun us, and we will have lived to provide for what bites our hands.
We live in between the moments of realization that we are finite beings on a finite planet. Time is watching from across the room, and it doesn't like you. It wants you to hurry up and reproduce. We absorb time's gaze and accept the chores, the duties, the endless refrains of society. We are passionate to find what lights us up outside of our daily lives.
Darkness is perhaps inside black holes, where reality crouches. We are waiting for the light to suck us in, but until then, we must get dressed, brush our teeth, and live.
out like a light
it's a blanket
quieting my turbulent
but then it
and the isolation
The darkness is powerful. If there is hope left in darkness, it will be found in its strength. Anything is possible in the dark; that is why it is feared, and that is why it is revered. The dark is neither good nor evil, neither right nor wrong, but everything illuminated is painted with those colors. As long as something is in the darkness, it remains what it truly is - before judgements, before politics, before perception itself paints the object in a false light. Darkness is honesty, at the cost of revealing nothing; it is honesty about honesty itself.
Symphony of Deadened Dreams Rotting From the Seams
There’s this god awful smell
And it’s coming from inside
I think I’m rotten at the core
Rotten as can be
I slit a vein just to know
What’s living inside
Bubbling to the surface all I found
Was a wave of sewage pouring out of me
Rotten, broken, sick
There’s nothing I can do
Sitting with myself
In a cage of flesh and bone
There’s only one escape
I slit a vein and wait
I let all the garbage seep away
But all I am is this stink inside
If you drain it all away you’ll find
Nothing left behind
If I can find a way
A way out of this place
I’d find my home in hell
A rotting filthy putrid place
It’s the hole where I belong
So dying here so fucking slow
There’s nothing left behind
i don't like the light
where every spot on my body is lit up
every imperfection becomes a wave
threatening to swallow me.
in the dark i can hide,
safe from my body,
hidden from dysphoria.
in the dark, i can live,
vibe with the stars.
in the dark, the struggles of daylight
seem far away.
in the words of Shel Silverstien,
"we all look the same when we turn out the light."
and i'm ready to turn out the light
and live in darkness
Darkness blankets around me
like the comfort of a friend.
I know it bears no ill will.
Just a reminder that I may want to get quiet,
and be here in this.
And in due time, see
that darkness indeed glows
like a kind
To me this is a comforting thing. The silence and still that comes with it is something that I crave. The sweet assurance that I won’t be heard or seen makes me feel like I can be myself. The moon usually comes with the dark and that thought always sparks a hum of excitement in me. The quiet beauty of the stars helps to calm my anxiety. It’s as if they are calmly watching over me, promising me they will always be there again the next night.
Sometimes I hide away in a closet just so I can feel that peace a certainty that comes with the dark. To me, the dark is a friend...
Plus, and most importantly, I have sensitive skin and the sun never fails to leave me with serious sunburns, so I don’t really have a choice. It’s either be in pain for weeks, or make friends with the darkness.
Sun-bright gentleness (always, you have a home here)
"Your mother called, she says she's worried."
She says, not she is. Harry notes the deliberate wording and sighs.
"I am sure," He says and despite how he tries, it's hard to get the bitterness out of his voice. Lando levels his look, he feels the prickle of it burning on the side of his face. It doesn't matter if he can't see his face, he just knows that Lando is making a face at him. Just as he knows he's staring.
It's not supposed to be as comforting as it is. It isn't suppose to make the knot in his chest loosen, but it does.
Familar, something he knows, can be certain in. He hasn't that since the surgery and woke up to completely darkness and learned that his world is going to stay that way. Only uncertainty, and a sea of faces and voices, he doesn't know and a long, long day that never seems to end.
"At least you get the hoard of sweets out of it," Lando says after a while, a little dry but Harry can hear the hint of a smile in his voice.
It makes his lips curl, and scoot closer to his friend. Lando makes a sound, exasparated, and done. Harry startles, jerks up but Lando loops an arm around and pulls him straight in to lean into the dip of his shoulder.
"You don't need to hesitate about that, idiot," He says, fond, threading his fingers through his hair. "You always know I have space for you."
Harry tries to make his mouth, to say something. Preferably, scream or something. He can't manage anything but bury his red face further into Lando's shoulder, his heart turning in his chest from how he ached for this type of contact, after everything. In this sudden darkness, Lando's fingers in his hair making soft motions and the weight of him beside him, real, it's everything.
His throat narrows and he chokes up, a little.
He reaches a hand out and fumbles around for a while, but manages to catch the edge of his friend's shirt, and tightens his fingers around it.
"Yeah, I got it," Lando drops a quick kiss to his forhead to which Harry protests at but warmth is curling tightly around his bones at the gesture, the feel of a smile pressed to his skin, and he can't quite stop the grin, either.