November 22, 2009
The darkness can choke you. Can surround and engulf you. Rise upon. Flourish in such a cataclysmic way. Petrifying with its blackness, its smogged cover. It has no shield you can push free. Free. Fresh as a bird that flies above the rushing white foamed rapids painting rocks with a frigid water film. Free. The shackles are loose. The shadows are no longer a loquacious group tearing into your brain’s flesh. Once more you pull and tug till the dawns light hits a dreary eye bulging. So ecstatic and vulgar all binding into a mesh of wind so bulk. So now its here and light shines bright with essence. Immense power of flickering dawn’s shine spreads and shelters you from a slowly receding black. Free. Till the retched night comes and swallows you once more when the sunset is no longer and the moon presents itself as warning. As if the raven was the night. Death. But free till then. Free till then.

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