There are things that come crawling in the darkest solitude hours of bleak nights. They crawl under our skin and along our spine that follows the falling apart of worlds. They come alive in our hate, thrive in our screams. They things, do not have names or answers maybe because we do not have words for everything; even if we have answers we cannot bury or bury. But does time help us to erode the darkness of our lives? Things in dark do not erode, they evolve. "Fate, destiny " do I laugh at them or cry?