As the lick of flames runs its course over the insignificant outer shell,

I shudder from the thrill accompanying my fury and misery.

Happiness is fickle! It is impossible to draw pleasure from a single instance of joy.

Fleeting sentiments hold no value in my eyes. I laugh at Happiness.

For misery is the only true sentiment there is.

I have never felt more alive then when the wave of sadness swept me over…

Toppled me over past the point of no return. The goosebumps have taken me

Once again. There is no loss in the intensity of my emotions.

I ache to scar the outer shall. She is magnificent though insignificant.

She must have her fun! The joy which evades Her as She is in love,

As She makes love, with beings far inferior to even her! That immense, profound,

Total, overwhelming, frenzied, mad, ecstatic, immersive joy

Lies with her blades. I have only one desire, and I shan’t deny Her.

The very thought sets Her off again; hair pricking in anticipation.

Her reactions are beyond Her control. And here, I feel Her feelings.

She and I comprehend each other in totality. So what if She is insignificant?

I love Her more than I love myself (and oh I do love myself!) I will suffer

Anything to make Her happy. And I have already. I suffer her lovers.

I suffer her frivolous Happiness! Her lapses in judgement. Oh, I suffer!

But She is still so blanketed in perfection, I cannot but love Her every piece.

And in my overpowering love, I can’t hope, any longer, for peace.

With us, in our ruinous love, there is only deepest despair and greatest Happiness!

She does not make me Happy, and for this I love her most of all.

And from each occasion of true sadness, I draw the pleasure which will last

Through my lifetime. I can’t wait for later today, when I will finally

Satisfy Her cravings, and enjoy together for a few moments, the

Sensation of being well and truly alive- and despairing!