Time takes my hand and hides me away without a flashlight. I eat the darkness up like sin- and when I’ve finally had my fill, I fall backwards into everything I’ve ever known. It’s cyclical and twisted and numbing and tragic- but when I stretch my arms out to reach for the south , I feel at home. So if you care to find me, start digging before I become a ghost and haunt you forever. I don’t think time heals much at all- I think it threatens you into some sort of truce where peace is on the other side and if you keep searching for it then you’re good as gone. My soul recoiling at every scary dream that felt too real until it was. My hands shake until I can muster up the strength to hold things, gently still. I look up to the moon and remember the glow. It’s eerie hue reminding me that there’s no such thing as darkness, after all, and time is as sad as you make it. AMT©️