A candle Lit by the matchsticks of ambition. A candle which brightens up the whole quarter, too dark for someone to find a way how to get out, without exhibition of one. Mysteries of the past still remain unsolved. This candle - a speck glowing amidst vengeful solitude. Just a candle, with the luminescence of filthy cravings and of soaring dreams. Seems near, yet a bit far ahead. I thrived for what I wanted to clasp, through my own weakness. My deprivation - with the will of skepticism for things too hard to explain by practicality, rational thinking & technical illusions. I longed to par for human intimacy, with acceptance of imperfection, urging for the limits of my existence... a an existence like that of a lit candle, with the fierce roar for profound truth & deliberate reasoning, and the indisputable quench for experience. I hold one, with the flames of opportunity. Clumped together with everybody else, this candle burns in...
There are many suitable places for this bug to develop and grow. I think it has already found one.