A shake, a tremble, clenched fists that paw at floors, legs and anything. It fans out, spiralling up my arms like a heart attack, hot and cold, shooting up my veins like climber tendrils. I am a stop-motion garden frame, crawling with vines.
Hot blood, like the seeping warmth of alcohol, fills me with strength, and it flutters up my collar bone and neck burns, my mouth softens, and it reaches my eyes with a blazing trail in its wake.
It is rage and lust and this infinite, immense and impulsive FEELING in me, a stirring white hot flame.
I am incensed with anger like smoke and it is all I breathe and feel and whisper and want.
And as soon as it came, it ebbs away.
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Uhm... Are you okay?
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