Broken light wants your attention, devotion and then your blood.

Mental parasites born of expectation, lean outside the natural moment, pulling me to do the same. And the parasite, having no finger prints, leave none. Only mine are left behind, trading the beauty and elasticity of the natural moment for a clumsy and brittle artificial one. Feeding off the future like a wraith, an unqualified conductor before the orchestra of this world. I can be a silly eel.