Its often difficult to describe what exactly I see when the lights are off, as though my eyes are crawling with amorphous shadow puppets. Sometimes these apparitions look like grinning demon heads who try to frighten me with grotesque caricatures of people I know. Other times they flit and flourish like dim fairies and charm me into the gorgeous abyss of the world within myself, the one known as unreal, solely in my imagination.
This is what gives them life. And part of me thinks that somewhere out in infinity, they take form and search diligent for the source.