Anonymous
what keeps me up at night at night things recede into shadow; they disappear, sinking under the ebb and flow of inky dark. and it’s just me, and every molecule of shadow. i see each particle. they hum and clot together and taste like river water, seeping in where it is dark. i stretch my hand upwards through thickened air, feel tons and tons of pressure, press my palm up against the bruise, and it is dark. and i let its steady groan reverberate through my skin. i’m touching something sacred, something deep i was never meant to reach. my hand falls back. hush now, child, just let it go— just think: here it’s safe and warm and dark.
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