I’m hungry.

It has been awakened within me and I am hungry.

I am not yet insatiable but it is coming.

It is absolutely coming and I can’t stop it.

I don’t know if I want to, I might need to, but its coming and I can’t stop it.

 

The throb has begun.  A reminder that I am empty and need to be filled.

The itch has begun.  Not because of anything other than a need to feel leather, and suede, and wood on my skin. I scratch absent mindedly at the spots that can be reached.  The ones that can not be reached itch the most though.  A maddening itch that reminds me second by second that I am an untouched canvas.

The hunger is present.

Exposed.

Raw.

When I get this way I can be satisfied but not satiated.  Pushed to my limit only to find that the goal post was moved. It feeds on itself while you feed on me and it is a loop of regeneration that can consume us both if we allow it.

If we want it.

If we indulge it.

If we give it oxygen to spread and burn down our inhibitions.

I keep the hunger at bay and yet it always threatens to break out of the cage I designed in search of….