I am
this liquid heat
that runs behind your eyes and demands recognition.

I am
this fury
that burns.

I am
this fire
that rages.


You reach behind,
inside yourself,
thinking you can drag me out,

but when your fingers touch me,
my cries incite riots,
rebellions of the flesh.

Your words
come of my inspiration
the blood and tears you dare to carve from me.


Your body sings
for me,
and you will never forget it.

Your mind creates
for me,
and you may never forget it.

Your heart belongs
to me,
never forget it.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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