Fly me back...to where my home is?

it's dark outside, and you don't know how to...feel. there's a certain quietness about it that's not quite pleasant. for all its taciturnity it jumps out at you, like a thief lurking in the bushes waiting to scare you into dropping your guard, except that even when you have your guard up, it attacks, maybe even more so than if you hadn't. and you just want it to pass, but you know that first it has to get darker before it can grow light. and that when the light comes, that too will be replaced by darkness. so you just sit and be, because really, there's nothing else you can do, except to let the darkness grow on you, until it climbs like an ivy plant on a deserted tower so that soon you can't see the tower anymore. and you want to wonder, but you can't find the strength to, because you know that even if you did you'd just hit a wall...and hit a wall and hit a wall. it's dark outside, but that's nothing, compared to the darkness...prowling, stalking...deep inside of you. because once that hits you, you realize...you're being hunted...twice over.
(sorry...just in one of those moods)
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