I like to pretend that I am blind.
Feeling my way around a familiar room--
counting steps between sofa and television,
a discarded broomstick a makeshift cane.
Curiosity and fear usually get to me before my intended goal
and I cheat looking for a coffee table or wandering canine
that has found its way into my path.
That is the excuse.
In the dark I feel claustrophobic,
trapped in the darkness, alone.
Horrible weight pressing down on me,
like six feet of dirt on decorated pine.
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