The darkness of an empty room comforted by the light of a halogen lamp. Thoughts once intriguing now mundane, points of digression drawn unto random shapes on blank pages. The allure of darkness. Its mysteries wrapped in temptation, its lust corrupting a stewing identity. Sharing a taste exposing the bland flavor of righteous light. Inducing an uncontrollable urge to explore its decadence. Making deals with devils for the promise of heaven. Poetry perhaps, art nonetheless, righteous misgivings hardly seen and barely heard. Listening to the eruptions; those small explosions in the distance echoing screams of the forgotten. The salt of tears seeping within the scars; petitions given to anyone listening to the cries at midnight.