night

Today I Looked Inside Myself

Today, I looked inside myself. At the darkness left untamed. The darkness I refused to face for too long, and now I’ll pencil it down, in pictures and in words. I’ll put it in black and white, just as is in my mind, and I’ll allow them to take flight. The fight that I put up for my own survival and the death living inside the walls of every hospital room I occupied, how could I not be fascinated by death at night?

To face who I am would be difficult, but what would be useless and a waste would be not looking at all. I am who I am, and I’ve survived as I’ve survived. Now everything goes bump in the night.

Surviving things others never did, managing to find years that others never had, my gratitude takes flight, but it lacks the shine, the light.

There’s something dark about me; there always has been. Life and death in a eternal cycle of turmoil. But at least life and death know where they stand.

And now I’ll allow myself to be who I truly am. Leave if you must. But just remember, there never is a time where I trust. I’ve been betrayed too many times, and I’ve seen too much violence. And in my little sight as a child, I saw far too much tragedy. Something running amuck, I thought I was insane. Perhaps the darkness in me was only to be expected.

But even so, I have found myself internally respected.

Welcome To The Freakshow

Only small sounds permeate the already too-thick air during that long summer night. Fond sounds of a sleeping dog, and the static of a television buzzing without a connection. Soon, they are all about to wake.

I sit on a beam, my feet dropping down beneath me as I peer between my toes at the serene place beneath me. If only I could keep it that way. But no, this is what I must do. This is who I am.

My black dress and hair blend in with the night, and soon it’s time. I tilt my head back, giving way to shadow and allowing my physical form to morph into what is now simply a shape. Moving down the walls and across the floors, I seep into the cables of the television, winding up its copper wires and into its mainframe. Moving about, I know the game is about to begin, so I maneuver everything within to spell out what I want onto the screen of the TV.

The clock strikes twelve. The game has begun. And as the small boy old enough to read sits up from his place on the couch and rubs his sleepy eyes, I slide out between the wooden beams of the home, pleased with my work.

Soon, the boy will stand as straight as a rod. The remote will drop from his hand. He will run up to his parents, terrified as only four words in unmistakable blood glares on the screen of the television:

“Welcome To The Freakshow”