Turn out the lights. I want to dance in the darkness of my sin. I want to let down my hair feel its length run wild down my spine. I want to feel my arms reaching out into the nothingness, want to feel the touch of the shadows as it burns my flesh. Turn out the lights. I want to dance in the darkness of my sin. I want to hear the silence of my solitude, hear it screaming at me from the pinpoint horizon I can't actually see because I turned out the lights so I could dance in the darkness of my sin. I want to feel the void at the very center of my being shaped like the soul I sold to a devil disguised as angel disguised as man disguised as devil. I can't tell anymore. Even in this darkness, it hurts to keep my eyes open. Even in this darkness I can see the outline of my nakedness shining like a beacon out to sea. But this is not the beacon calling to lost ships like mothers call to children. This is the beacon that blinds my eyes and reminds me of my imperfections. So again, turn out the lights. I want to dance in the darkness of my sin. Please, just turn out the light that burns within me. Cut out its source and let me fade back into the darkness. Turn out the lights. I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.