The Darkening

I have a temptation: I want to obliterate and annihilate, I want to drink cheap white wine by the bottle and suffer the burning, to swallow my old blue friends and share in the dampening, the muffled and the muted. I run the sink and wash my face, opening my eyes under the water. I will torch the memories, I will plunder and devastate them, I will raze the ground behind me, level it with such ferocity and scorch the earth so down trodden. These stalks and chaff and husks are scattered before me now, all will be burnt in pyres of purification. And once the choking smoke has cleared I will gaze out over the blackened rubble and the decimated desert to feel nothing.
Instead: I will put a glass over my candle and suffocate the flame. Slowly my oxygen will deplete, and I will cease this feeling, there will be no anesthetic and pain will not be numbed. I turn my music up, I drown the voices out, I bump shoulders with the hopeless, I raise my lowered eyes and see sunken gazes and worn souls, I feel the swirl of dejection sucking me down and I start kicking. There is a light here, somewhere there is a light, put the batteries in the torch man and flick the switch, there is a light, find it before you lose your sight. Stay in the dark too long and you'll forget you're there.