light.

There is a certain quality in the nighttime that I lust. It is that feature that can only be achieved when the dark clouds cup the land and paints our world black. It is the mystery it concocts that excites and scares me most, for reasons I do not know.

I go home to the dark streets that warrant me danger; the same streets that I enjoy for its bareness and shadows; the shadows that never fails to bathe me with cold water while I play; the kind of game that requires solitude but above all, darkness.

I ride home to the dark empty road; the road that allows me to fly and counter flow; the feature of the road that freezes the air; the cool air that pierces the pores; I play the game; the game that requires above all, darkness.

I live in the dark day; the day created by the lunar ray; the ray that arouses passion; the passion that blinds you more; the more you give in, the more you die; the more you die, the nearer you are to, darkness.

You breathe in. out. in. out. in. out. out to, darkness.