Flick the match, light the switch.

Ignite the wick, and burn the... Wait. Wrong story.

I tumbled downward, and downward, and something kept whispering, lovingly as I slipped; “just surrender, just fall, motherfucker, fall; stop stopping, stop starting, and stop thinking; surround yourself with the lush, and the false, and then let loose whatever grasp you’re straining to keep. Wash yourself away. Tumble downward, and allow my gravity to separate you from your senses, strive to become disjointed entirely, and when you’re blind to the needs of your flesh, and the agony tugging your nerves, and the metaphysical beast prowling your soul, you’ll see the truth. Awake, and realise there’s a fresh  war to be fought.”

This voice echoed up my spine, haphazardly waking me from a narcotic induced half-sleep. I hadn’t remembered stopping and dozing during my walk, but I must have. And as I cautiously surveyed the streets, wondering where the fuck I ended up, the situation struck me. Like I had been doused in blood, and fed to the wolves. I was alone. Darkness stretched for miles; civilization had uprooted and left me. Or melted. I didn’t know. But beneath, and above, I was engulfed in a blackness.