There’s no such thing as darkness.
A perpetual, blinding light gleams upon us relentlessly.
It warms my cool façade at night yet aunts me throughout the day.
The warmth during the day is artificial, though it is believed to be pure.
True warmth lies within the night-
The stars are rich with affection, loosely bound in reality.
What is reality? So familiar yet so anonymous. Who’s to say what is real
And what is not.
How does one know time moves forwards, not backwards?
From now on I am only growing younger.
There’s nothing more I need to know
To continue my abysmal illusion.
