We are

Salty currents

In a sea, unexplored

Our chemistries

Mix

In rushing

Imperative

Driven

Beyond reason

Beyond caution

Beyond place

In our thirst

For immortality

Our bodies

Run

This ancient

Race

Spawning

Generations

In dance

Of living pace

Our essence

One

In twisted grace

Your form

Your soul

Your heart

I taste

I vow

That not

One drop

I'll waste

This ballet

In love's ocean

Lost to sight

Lust makes another person the physical embodiment of your every desire to such a degree that having your way with them becomes a bodily necessity like the need for food and water. You imagine indulging so vividly that for reality not to play out exactly as such physically pains you. May their very aura arouse you and the absence of their body against yours make your life feel inadequate.    

Do you feel that? 

Veins nearly burst with that acidic, angry, insatiable demand for soft and wet flesh. It's a virus, polluting your bloodstream with a dark adrenaline that consumes your core like some lightning snake. Engorged with an unbridled fiery bliss, your mind is primordial, violent. Teeth clench in a bear trap. You don't care who or what it is; you just want to devour its sublime soul. 

It's winter. You run a hot bath. Of every beautiful distraction, this is the one you ritualize. You like to watch the steam dancing across the top of the water as you strip down. The crisp air pricks at your bare skin. You don't breathe. The moment you numbly step into the water, the way it rises to meet every inch of your frigid flesh - this is lust.

Dictionaries define lust as strong sexual attraction. Lust is the hell-bent version of love. We feel lust when we fall in love with the body rather than the mind. You can feel lust for the one you love but not love for the one you lust for. Love songs describe lust. We tend to confuse lust with love. We fall for the bodies not the minds. That is lust. 

Lust, the sweet taste of heaven with a bitter after taste, of hell. 

A thirst that can't be quenched,

hunger that can't be satisfied.

A fire down below.

It's wanting what you shouldn't have, to touch, taste, drown in the scent. It's your mind telling you stop, but your life canal,screaming, fuck yes! 

Think about her. Think about her smile, the one that could end wars and cure cancer. Dream about her eyes, those bright stars that make the sun seem dull. Then picture her hair, the lockets of autumn leaves that bounce with every step. Now bring it all together. Now naked. Curvy, isn't she? She smiles, knowing you cannot resist. And you smile helplessly right back, knowing she's absolutely right. 

Every damn thing about him

The way he moves his hands when he talks

The way he laughs and the bass of his voice

When we make eye contact and I feel my face go red

I want to know everything

I want to know your favorite color

Your favorite song

Because it makes me feel

So, so close to you

When I'm too scared to touch you yet.

you know the feeling

of hot breath on a cold windowsill?

in yearning, the glass

fogs up

and the way honey oozes

down your finger

if you happen to drip some 

onto yourself, an accident

and, the feeling

staring across the room

and you know, you must have your fingers 

running over their skin

the feeling of stars in your stomach

and the feelings of fire in your veins

First, it feels like a madness.

Driven by a primal compulsion versus an emotional guidance.

Even if you resist it, inside a part regrets the resistance.

Even if you give in to it, eventually the regret can blacken that moment.

But in that surrender, however long, there is a sweet freedom of pleasure; rapture! That freedom is an illusion, yet you need it's illicitness all the same.

Joyful madness.