A Dark, Shadow Grey Moth Rests Along The Grim Hue Of Brick, Its Spattered Orange Cream Underwings Scream A Halloween Defiance To The Bleariness Of Stone And City. And Before Each Fold Of Its Wings, There Rests Beyond All The Pale Fire And Din Of A Thousand Slow Eyed Empires, Feeling The Seethe Of Their Existence Spent In A Fidgeting Cauldron Where Mediocrity Camps With Her Dangerous Throne.