I am me, only in the dark. My imagination
doesn’t see faces as I linger on want. It is,
like, the future has no existence. Night blinds
the vision, causes disappearance. In the dark,
I can ask questions, make my own answers. In the dark,
all is quiet, all vision becomes
haunted by side viewing. All possibilities
exist. There are none to touch. Vision
makes error, such as the shadow
fingering the pillow below the head. In the dark,
freedom is known. My answers create despair,
knowing the light ends my destiny.
