cutting great neck

i love sitting in the darkness.




it swallows you up. black and flowing, like a curtain that closes in all around you. but you can still run, still feel for miles all around you, as if you're standing blind in one of those midwestern great fields of grass that seems to expand every step you take. darkness is endless like that, and free.

infinite: you think your hand can reach its end, but it never will.



blue swirls of light slip into the darkness.

the light from the computer screen ebbs, licking wrinkled papers and the mugs and plates and the keyboard and my fingers typing endlessly.

outside the sky is purple, snowy purple like a liberal arts shirt tucked under someone's bed. wiry tree limbs seem to float upwards like balloons, almost rising towards the sky, roots like teeth flowing away from their gums.




i'm encased in this darkness like a bug trapped by amber. darkness is an amber sun; it spreads, its rays flooding everywhere, ubiqutous and beautiful and dangerous.