Obsession. It eats at your soul. I can always feel it building up inside of me, like a wave, never ending current of electricity. Of hopeless lust. I can feel it, pulsating, watering through my veins screaming to be fed, to be nourished. To be alive with him. I can feel him even, radiating though my body. But is more then that, a superficial wanting for his beauty, I want him. His essence. His voice in my ear . I want you to need me, I need to need me. I can lay, fade out, leave my feelings of reality, and imagine a dream of us together. I see your face in the reflection of my own distorted image, in the panes of glass at storefronts. Everyone I meet somehow seems to capture some sort of your essence; you’re magic, even if it is only my imagination. I am obsessed. Hopeless. But yet I still cling. To what?? Even I don’t know. Not part of you you could ever give would satisfy me fully. I want his sex. It slowly eats away at me, suffocating almost. His skin, his eyes. Sweat and breath and lips are all I ever really wanted from him. But lust is a weapon that kills you swiftly. But it’s like I feel like I’m swimming alone in a deep, dark expanse of an ocean of sharks. Glittering, circling me. Slowly. Deliberate. Knowing they are causing me far more pain with their silence then anything they could ever do to my physical self. . I am scared. Because I know, eventually, they will stop circling and devour me whole, as if I was never even alive, as if I was something so insignificant not even to bother with at all. I fade till then.