I can feel it slipping away.
I don’t know…
That feeling of having it all ironed out and tucked tightly.
I just haven’t felt the same since the awakening; bored by the bits and tatters of life catching on gusts of wind.
Being bitten is what enflames me, makes my molecules buzz beneath the surface of my skin, creating heat, creating friction, and a dazed sort of madness. I want to be an animal–to cut a line down my center and claw my way out–all guts and bewilderment.
Is this how we’re supposed to grow? Sideways? Out of ourselves? Stretching ourselves all over our lived experiences?
It’s the haze of drunkenness, and good music, and warm bodies, and conversation that never really gets too deep. It’s all of those wonderful demons. It’s that.
Never press the backspace button.
And so I’ll be forced to say,
that lust is my favorite emotion.