'Just'

Every aspect of the word, and its intricate web of relativities, refuses to aid the ones I am itching to use; diction simply isn't good enough! I've got a feral gnawing in my gut, an agitated defiance that I have to unwillingly stifle and opress. Fuck; words cannot articulate - self indulge, even - in the depths of their own understanding, to surface some exquisite adjective that will enable me to describe this. I never truly understood the word feast as I do in this moment; I never fully appreciated the implications that run, like rivers, through thirst. I had no idea that I could know what it is for my eyes to literally feast, and quench their thirst, on the purest of beauty - I am not sorely lacking. I saw beauty in it’s realist form, and I am taken by it.