There's something beautiful in the nights that linger. Dragging on until the morning, waiting and lilting. They sink and seep and seem to inch into daylight, sifting through the unporous layer of our minds. They stretch out our thoughts and illuminate the darkest holes within our hearts, unveiling the creatures that hide in the daylight and the demons that become burnt and shriveled in the sun. There are many who fear these demons and devils. Turning from temptation and pretending to be holy, they fake smiles and make themselves believe that they are perfect, shunning the most human tendencies inside of them. Sex, desire, greed-- these words are poison on their lips, and slutshaming is, rather than unkind, simply decent and classy. The meanness of those who turn from the dark is considered more proper than the impulse of those who embrace it. But it's nights like that which hold the most tender beauty. That of lust and love, and that which those who sleep till the morning learn to live without. There is beauty in the humanity of it all. It is the sins which give us depth and teach us meaning, and the sins which help to fill out a human being. We are not pieces of art, and our souls should not be pure. We live to survive, and survive to live. So why deny our darkest parts if they hurt no one but ourselves?
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