Itching, crawling, convulsing on the ground in a fit of rage and defiance. That's how I see myself years from now, on the ground and foaming at the mouth and spitting in your face. I will roll and rock and kick, kick you until you snap in half and fall over dead, dead with desire to hear more, see more, hate more, love more, love me. I will kick your heart and soul and ribs and spirit and arms and legs until you explode with the passion I'm shoving into every crevice and wrinkle and orafice in your boney body. I will make a concious effort to punch you in the mouth and throat and lungs until you scream for mercy, until you scream for my mercy. And you will pray that you shall love me no longer while you scream your love for me at the loudest volume one can muster with bruises on their mouth and throat and lungs, with broken teeth and punctured organs, as loud as you can. You will scream. I will burn your toes and the soles of your feet with the hot coals I keep in my pocket. I will burn your feet so badly that you will not run nor walk nor sit nor talk. I will burn you again, screaming and barking for oyu to get up. Get up! Go! Run! Do it now! I will burn your body until you listen, until you do what I want you to do and run to the rain clouds to cool yourself and rest, only until I come. I will find you, oh yes, I will find you. I will find you and beat you silly, beat you senseless with the force of my love, pouring out of my ears and nose and mouth and eyes, so much that I cannot control it.