deep desire.

...you ever had a need beyond fundamental necessity? A need in which deprivation of such causes a reaction similar to that of severe dehydration and the inability to function like before. With focus on the intensity rather than principle, I'm skeptical if this feeling is shared by the majority, or if it can be felt by many others. 

I covet climax, I envy ecstasy. 

The insatiability of my appetite is indelible. I don't succumb to my urges so easily, especially over the influence (and under the moon). I search for immediate hindrance when I feel it start to rise, but there's a violent obstruction in my movements when it is out of reach. I run into the back of an alley, with no way to turn, nothing to do but climb, and limbs energised and weak. 

Be not afraid.

I'm not a figure to fear so deeply. At times I admit I wish my frame was inviting, guess isolation was simply God's plan. But I digress.

The paths over hills in the valleys of my mind are alluring, yet the wildflowers that grow from the vines hanging from above are sordid to many. Is desire really the forbidden fruit of which juice drips from my glossed lips? Is it silent rage? Is it consolation that brings confinement in melancholy?

I'm not susceptible to feeling contrite, I lean towards acceptance and look closer to find beauty in dissonance.

I long for a particular feeling, I long for particular people.

And how do I acquire such? What can be used, what could be done? utilitarian exploration and escapism, luxuriation in femininity? I do whatever it takes, with absence of humiliating desperation of course, I rather class it as over-passionate fanaticism. 

Boredom is the root of all evil, literally.

I sit and lie on this rocky island, fit for one. There are no apostles to accompany. There is nothing I can do but raise my unheard voice and watch the clouds. If I dive, I may struggle (yeah, i can't swim) but I'll have something to ponder about once I reach the surface, and God almighty above, if i reach the shore I'll have plenty more stories, and I can ride out the rush till the despondency from isolation sets in.

vixen 2: 'deep desire.'