Turn Off the Lights When You Talk
Speak with your eyes shut and your mind open.
When it’s dark, it’s hard to feel vulnerable. Let words spill and let them spill fast. Let our minds not be crowded by the misconceptions, the illusions, of the light. Let us not be fooled by smiling faces, and instead hear the cracks in bellowing voices. Let us bask in the bliss that is being totally, unapologetically, and supremely unaware of the brighter-than-life lights, lights that seek to crowd our pure, simple thoughts. Let tears spill from our eyes like words out of minds, and let us be fragile, lost in darkness, in our tired, worn thoughts. Let listeners just listen, and be lost in the darkness, in the tired, worn-by-somebody-else thoughts of someone they trust to be with in the dark, if only for that moment. When it’s dark you are most vulnerable.
Lose time to pause, and play in the sprawling darkness instead. Let listeners become listers of their complexities and let us not forget what we say in the dark. Allow words to mix with dreams and reactions to be lost with them. Let light come, and when it does, when it pours in like molasses, and seeps through the cracks, when you first make eye contact with whom you have shared what you have in the dark, remember. Remember that they were there, in the dark, listening to your dark-room secrets, and sharing theirs too. Remember that they are their dark-room words, their dark-room secrets, and your dark-room confidant. Breathe easy knowing your burdens are now not solely your own. They are held in the living, breathing, dark-room mind of a person you trusted, if only for the moment.
Play nothing safe, let words spill, and let you dark-room mind speak. Nothing is permanent, so turn the lights off.
