Define the Cycle of Serial Curiosity:
It is the wish to understand the cloaked man,
a nocturnal creep that wakes by early stars’ side:
dusk of the wholesome;
dawn of the crack;
prologue of the fragment.

From a slip from this alluring wine of sirens,
brewed from renegade alchemists, 
pupils tire, and bloodshot become the irises.
Here, the gateway to a deconstructing trance is built.

A dream,
a song of those amplified by night,
the projection of primitive hungers,
is such a curiosity’s  first home.
Cursed as it is a house it shall haunt
and those shall awaken with the craving of scarlet waves.

It is forbidden by sun, but an embrace by moon.
Its prime is when the sky reflects onyx,
and is raveled by the scarf that shines
capturing those through appeared beauty.

Soon they hunt only besides owls:
to their prey, all hopes of promised, precious lives shrivels;
promised salvation withers and final prayers are said, 
as the force the uneasy truth is pushed into victims eyes.

The initial interest, oh such a bane, 
is the conception of a hellion—
the birth of a decayed angel
bearing wings of shade
and a halo of blood.

Oh sweet midnight, the hour of fallen men,
the hour of were such an initial curiosity and grows
into a crooked fascination.
It all begins by daring to howl the nocturne of fatality
to summon death—life’s bittersweet fragment.