The darkness is coming. No, fuck that, the darkness is here. You wear it like the blight. It burrows into your skin. It scampers around your mind. It won’t ket you sleep. It barely lets you breathe. It takes pieces of you every night. One then the next. So Slowly and so deliberately that You can’t even feel yourself disappearing. As if you had always, in some small way, been leaving us.
Leaving us
John's Writing 