I believe in the power of obscured shadows. Places to hide, to be a lesser form of myself. Happiness, crass and attitude makes me presentable to you and to certain levels inside of me. Not myself. I do not know myself. My self is a lonely package yearning to have substance and meaning. I don’t want you to know the power of Fear that flows over and through me. I am a hungered soul. Haunted by past years, multiple shadows converging into memories lain at crooked crosses beneath the relentless grip of dreams. And I am six, seven. I am beaten, molested, best forgotten. Closets: safe sanctuary to hide from the dim light peering beneath the door and his face leering above me. I don’t pray for freedom anymore. I don’t pray for anything anymore. Except to not to hurt others. And so I retreat like a vampire from the rising sun, like a child beneath the shadow of a risen chair. Waiting for release. Come peace in whatever form you chose. Into Your hands I commend my spirit.