I hate bright light.
I especially hate it when it flickers,
Like when it flickers through trees when you drive.
Life passing by is like that flickering light.

I prefer the dark.
The blacker the better.
It wraps around you like a warm blanket.
Sleep and death is like wrapping yourself in the dark to heal.

Staring into the abyss is a compulsion.
You can feel it looking back,
Drawing you in.
Inviting you to lose your individuality.

Like standing on a ledge,
You have a compulsion to fall.
The illusion of life and time,
Is like thinking the driver is the car,
That the electricity is the computer.

It’s not.
You look into the abyss,
And it looks back.
Eternity is always there,
Waiting.