This is the darkness that comes after midnight, when zombies drink their daily coffees and crickets perform their operas well within the walls of overgrown summer grasses. When closing your eyes for more than 10 minutes is normal and when all my demon’s faces look the same.
I used to carry a red wooden heart that hung in place of my real one to remind me why I need a flashlight. To remind me that even though my eyes are disabled, I can still hear a faint steady beat off in the who knows where.
I swear I had it when I had no sense of time, when days ran into each other like confused but happy painters. Maybe I lost it when I realized that time controls me, when I realized that twenty-four hours is a sick lie, when I realized that twenty-four hours are actually twenty-four seconds.
Why the hell did no one warn me about this?
No one ever told me there was something darker than midnight. They never told me about how heavy you would feel when you wore a fake wooden heart. Why didn’t I know? How didn’t I know?
I guess that’s what darkness does. It hides the scary things, but just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
I need a flashlight so I know what I’m walking into. I need it in order to find my drum. I need it. I need it. I need a flashlight to find life source. I need my heart.