hands stained with mud and scorch

this is not a dream, nay, this is a long and strange nightmare, one populated with all the traditional elements of groundless fear and panic and tightly wound energy. This is a tribute to the evolution of cultutral insanity, our grand and glorious leap from the impossible to the obscene, with only minimal pain in the transition phase.
I can't feel the bonds of this anymore, there's a lot that I'm having a really hard time experiencing, what with that goddamned girl distracting me something like 23 hours a fucking day. I don't like this. I know it isn't going anywhere for a while if ever at all, I know we have so little in common it's laughable, so what's the fucking draw? Why is it that when I start thinking about her I can't stop? Why is it that this fucking ball of energy in my gut isn't ever completely going away anymore? you have found the fire you dug and you found it isn't it just fucking glorious and great and absolutely beautiful i don't think that this is bad at all why what the hell is so terrible about having the fire within you my boy?
burning burning i think this might be what drives me nuts drives me off the edge down into the sweet abyss slap at the walls while you fall put some bruises and marks on your palms this is rushing air sucking wind white light burning holes through all your clothes it shines through and there isn't anything you can do about it maybe if you're already tumbling off the edge that means you aren't going but gone crazy loopy separated on a permanent basis from the majority society this is a sweet release to take you from your body to someplace really nice.