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The Fire

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I feel that need burning inside me again. It is strong, so very strong, that it is almost overwhelming me.  I struggle to concentrate and even to breathe. The effort of the simple things becomes magnified and the outside world seems to slow to a pace that just washes over me. And still I burn. The heat is internal, making everything else seem colder and more distant. I feel myself move and hear myself talk, but I am lost to those senses somehow, existing on another level altogether.  It is raw and desperate. It can only end one way for me.

I have to catch light. I want to be on fire again, for my skin to finally match the flames within and burn in sync. I long to feel the heat and the sting that will calm everything, pairing the inside with the out, the here with the now, and the light with the dark. They will fight as they come together and then they will find a way to be. A way to rest. And as the need is painful in its intensity, so it must be treated with pain, as it burns it must be met with fire, and as it hides within, I must be torn apart, exposed, and possessed.

This is how it is sometimes. I must be consumed and owned.  I have to be bound and freed. Only then can I become small – so very small – and be taken further and further away, so that I hardly exist. Then everything will stop, nothing will be real, and yet, somehow, I will find my way, once more, back to you.  I will crave your body and need to be part of you. I will be colder then and will feel your heat and crawl inside you. You will pull me in and zip me into you and I will be safe. I will be yours. Nothing else will be, and I will sleep at last.

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