A Conversation Covered In Darkness (stream of consciousness write) Who knows where I'll go (read at your own risk, or own waste of time.)

It approaches, the end.
Bright light engulfs,
Tunnel vision into
black.

'Do you see
anything really?'

Just darkness rising
in the East. The night
before the stars fell,
and vanished behind
the lunar eclipse, and
I rose inflamed.  Where
is the light?

"Fluorescent street lamps provide light!"

The moon never returned, and the Sun,
the poor sun never rose again.  It burned
in the Horizon - and all that was left
of it was ash.   How can one mourn
for such devastation?

"The Government will provide."

The troops move in, and we lay
huddle in groups, arm in arm...
Tear gas rains down...

"The Government will protect..."

The troops move in, and we lay
covered in darkness, though we
 are all brightly lit for the television,
broadcast as rabble-rousers...
Mass hysteria ensues, and we lay
upon each other in mass graves...

"The Government will provide."

When did we begin to trust the Government?
The peoples interest never is
at heart of any issue... just distraction,
distrust, and keep us apart, so the
mysterious powers that be, known as
"They," can continue to rule...

Darkness descended, and artificial light
took over.  Divide and conquer,
Distract, and play on fears and irrational rationale.
"They" own us.

"You're a conspiracy theorist."

No, I just see the truth.
Minimalist, spiritualist, blahist...
It doesn't matter... we're all
Inside the "Matrix."

"I see the light.  It's a Thursday, 11:01PM...
It's coming from a screen, and it's telling
me the truth.  It's name is Dell, and it provides
me truth through electronic signals...
I read the words, I read the news... I know
the truth.  I believe the Gossip, the fear mongering..
I believe..."

I hear a hint of sarcasm.  Does Mom know
you're speaking to me?

"Mom is an alcoholic, who cares what she knows."

That's just plain disrespect.  

"You're ignorant, and slightly off your rockers."

I'm just tired, and my mind is going to fast to keep up.

"Get some sleep."

Insomnia is my best friend right now.  We have conversations,
much like the one you and I are having.  Usually
I'm a little more passionate though.  I may end
up writing a poem, though I've been working
on a sci-fi/horror/mystery/something story.

"Really?  How much have you written?"

A paragraph.

"You call that working on it?"

Well, I have an idea, and I got that written down.  That's what counts!

"You're a casual writer, I forgot."

Writer?  I'm a revolutionist!

"You're a conformist, and you know it."

I'm as programmed as the next person. I don't know
what thought is mine, or what that is "Theirs."  Education,
it tends to seep in and take over your unique thought.

"Lame."

I ran a mile the other day, did push ups, and then took the bus to work.  I think i died on the way to work... I hadn't ran a mile in 10 years.  What was I thinking?  I feel young, I look young... but my bodies telling me I'm not young.

"This conversation is supposed to be covered in darkness, you can't see anything."

You're right!  Stream of consciousness writing is a b....  tough.  I don't like cursing, or using swear words... but you're right.  I completely got off topic.

"Then get back on topic."

I've written too much to get back on topic... though I'll share it anyway.

"This is good, it lets out thoughts and potentially feelings.. and helps free up creativity to be inspired."

Time will tell... though i'm dwelling in this stupid darkness.  Hopefully the sun rises tomorrow.

"It will, it always days."