The Storm

In your eyes
There is a storm collecting clouds
Rolling black-blue thunder
Churning thoughts
Foaming
Fermenting
Frothing at the surface

Standing windswept and alone
At the edge of inglorious madness
Watch the storm as it approaches

Coming
It is coming
You are coming for me

Bound by the wind
Howling through my every pore
The ropes they whisper
A cordial invite to stay
Transfixed

Wallowing and reveling in its own virtue
Lightening flashes
And weaves its pretty tapestry
Upon my nakedness
In moments
Blinded by the touch
In moments
Drinking in the purity
In moments
Ethereal

Cascading down
The rain falls
Salty
Cooling my burning flesh
Hemorrhaging my vulnerability
Splaying my substance in pools at your feet

Pounding thunder
Roars within
Surging forward
Taking its want
Moving through and beyond
Consuming
Enveloping
Discarding

The heart of the tempest beats in my soul
Taken in its breast
I ride the clouds
I chase the wind
I embrace the lightening
I taste the rain
As the thunder tears me open

I am lost to the storm