Like a storm, whirling up,
I search for charge
for my static.
But it gets so dark in
the crevasse of a valley.
I know what I crave is
there,
underneath my fog and insecurity.
Little white pills
and weeds under trailers,
trailers that I tear up in anger
and frustration.
I consume!
But I am beautiful
and bright and quiet.

There is a storm
inside of me and I know what I feel.
I feel a storm brewing
and stewing like magic in my hollowed
out inside.
What better to fill me than
the potential for fire?
That is what I crave. Fire.
Not drugs, not this high, not this drunkenness.
I want FIRE.
And I want it to destroy me.
I want to be consumed
from the inside out.