There's something horribly pedestrian about balking at the sound of something "dark". I take pains to look normal, to spite my tattoos (a formal avoidance of explaining the ruse, with every motion that I make). But I sternly believe, although you are what you use, you can only be bound by what you see.

As "dark" as what you're viewing can possibly be.

You can only be bound by capacity for belief, by anxious loopholes up your sleeve, by false thoroughness. Through the hills and trees of where the lucky go to hide, or the smeared light of the streets that make predation of the weak, the only things that bind us are the things that we wont see.

Those noises in the night that make us still.

There's something horribly equestrian about the spooks keeping all the chains; the shadows behind doorways stopping progress in our veins. Our fears become the leash of where we go and how we change, until we cannot recognize what we've become. And we're jumping over canyons to escape the roiling dark, because there's nothing quite like a mirror to make us afraid.

To make us turn the other way and bolt like headlight-heavy deer.

So how do we throw off these ropes that we have made?

We only have to see...