midnight.

It's the details that show us what it really is to scream love, to scream life, to scream 'Yes, now, I finally choose to live!'

The choice is based on sheer and ruthlessly intolerable insanity, but it's a choice nevertheless. Why, I'll feel the shards of burnt orange and sharp Pacific. The loneliness that seeps from the cement and echoes flawless, fabricated leather. Paranoia subdued and carelessness ignited like those prolific streetlamps, burning bright, bright, dull, dull, atmospheric like individual Jupiters along the lines of civilization that doesn't sleep. They don't falter and this, too, is in the details. The finite textures of the sky and its tangible closeness. The streetlights bring the universe closer to me and that is where I choose to live in the universe.

Let it be what it is.