Devious little things grow in my mind, every time we get ourselves into the darkness we disintegrate a part of ourselves, rejoice with this as we know it is  not the darkness it is the 18th mark of its word that leaves our corrupted soul, like a candle wavering in the breeze night as if winds of the gods were blowing it two and through, sample the fires (BURN! BURN!), taste the burning embers (BURN! BURN!), feel pain (BURN! BURN!) as it washes over you like rugged waves on the shoreline (BURN! BURN! BURN IT TO THE GROUND! FEEL YOUR FLESH BURN! BURN! BURN! FEEL YOUR FLESH BURN! BURN! BURN! LETS BURN IT TO THE GROUND!)