In all its heartless grip.
Fuelled by sadness and consequence.
Stoked by need and unknowing.
The elated numbness.
The joyful hate.
The high of the sickening fear.
The stabbing depths of the alone.
Ecstatic in its freedom, dancing with sharp toes over a threadbare carpet of hope.
This beautiful truth.
That of no other.
This beautiful now.
Unsharable. Uncontrollable. Unpredictable.
Delicate and crushing.
Primer of pain and pleasure.
Until singularity, when everything makes sense but it no longer matters.
The last beautiful truth.
Alone and free.
The beautiful end.