It slips around in my mind, dark and still, a shadow of a shadow, a void as black as nothing. I know it's within, always. Watching. Waiting. A hungry animal, stalking it's quarry. I don't know what it is, but in my final hour on this world, I know I will find out.
https://twitter.com/RickWrightNow/status/1359347666413584388
I catch it, now and again, in a mirror. Hiding in my skin. It wants to push out of it's prison. It wants a way to go out into this world, to find a host. You, possibly. Or your soul's companion. But don't worry, I won't allow that. I know how to control it. I think.
I'm losing bits now. Just an hour or so a day, not much. Things start to go fuzzy and soon it's just ... nothing. My doctor says it's my brain guarding against old trauma, avoiding things I still won't talk about. I know that's not it, though.
What is it doing with my body during that lost hour? What am *I* doing? Did you and I talk around two o'clock today? Did it call you? What did it say? What did it want? Can you avoid it, if what it wants is you? Would you try to?
Or would you just... allow it in. As you know you kind of want to, in dark, murky thoughts hiding from your conscious mind. As I did, long ago.
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