I wait for the lights to come on as I've lost the ability to flip the switch. It seems I've walked the street for days looking for the hand that controls the light only to find continued darkness. Unfortunately daylight only burns the truth out of me. I crave artificial light, the spastic, irregular glow of the television bouncing off of the walls assaults me with friendly fire trapping me in a world of designer straight jackets minus the benzodiazepine. In the darkness I am safe.
I am a coward.