You wouldn’t get the light because I don’t show it well. 
And as far as I can tell your eyes squint on just how dim it flickers.
That triggers you and your mass of robotic flies to come and cage yourselves in a dome of what’s emitted.
I mean, it’s lit so take a hit.
Then watch the bars get tighter.
Wrapping wretchedly around your inner workings.
Feel your circle of peace shatter
as your interconnected nervous systems go into shock
over something as wild as my oldly intervaled anomaly.
Pace frantically in the space 
while gasping for air among the murmurs of your hearts. 
Allow your brains to take down your bodies
Underneath this somber flickering sun of a soul you just had to savor.
Dead carcasses undercover
because of a need to view this hue of a stage light.
I don’t bury the fallen here, you dots in a fixture.
Connect how you wish.
I’d look up and create constellations of you
just so you could breathe again.
But I warn you:
Be wary of taking the same path.
Cats have lost lives at the hands of curiosity
and insanity is a regretful repetition.
Be the fly or the feline:
Fate is the first five words of this prose
and a rose within the walls
grows despite the discrepancies.