when i was younger,
i saw
ghosts dancing in
front of me and
i had been afraid of this;
the quiet tapping
filtering through my vision,
the haze that
molds in and out and
disappears and 
i feared what
i did not understand,
what i did not
see

when i feel the
ivory under my nails
i do not expect darkness;
it is a silhoutte
tattooed in the back of my head,
all lines and no face,
no black or grey or ivory to compare.
but dark ink is harder to
decipher;
they are thousand of dots and molecules
and suddenly they are
thick blotches that
swim like clouds
who bring a thunderstorm
and i am the
God that wills it

when i run
they tell me i am
walking through darkness,
but all i see is the heat
of the stars,
the rush of the air,
the tinkling bulb
of fireflies rushing
through the night,
and then
i see what
i cannot see
and then
i am alive.