Elated disbelief.

How it feels to be part of history.

Tonight.

Rumble.

The lights flicker, blindingly. I see wraiths and phantoms in that instant of fleeting darkness.
I write by typing. Stitching words in awkward sequences, chasing dreams.
The blinking cursor mocks my inability to construct sentences, once I was so proud of.
I have grown afraid. Of almost everything there is to be afraid of.
The rustling poses a turning of leaves, back to newer beginnings.
I grow arrogant and complacent with my inflated ego unchecked.
The joy is still there, singing songs of treachery.
I start. I stop. I continue on.
The demons emerge, tall and strong.
I see a reflection of my insecurities.
The writer dying, as routine sets in.
I don't wanna give up.

Again.

Turn right, look left.
From here, to there.
Always more, never less.
I left, right after.
There is here, now.
Talk less, listen more.

Leap.

Into the gentle quiet dark night.

All-Star.

If you've managed to stumble upon here, it's going to be magical.

With rainbows, giggles, and stuff.

We're already conversing.

You & me. Us.

Talking without even knowing each other.

Don't believe it? Listen to the voice.

What voice?

The voice narrating all these words in your head.

Is it your voice? 

But the words came from me.

I'm talking to you. In your head.

Spooky.