As a fever, it's burning.
My skin is craving.
My heart is aching,
and my bones are breaking,
from the want
that tears me apart.
For the thing
that needs to be felt.
Needs to be held,
needs to be there.
My soul is aching
to be touched.
To be that cosmic dust
that molds into blood.
My skin is aching
to be touched.
To be that raindrop
that falls on the earth
and becomes one
with the filth.
To be loved
with your filth.
One with your filth.
My soul is aching
to be felt.
2025/05/25
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 2:23 PM UTC
As a fever, it's burning.
My skin is craving.
My heart is aching,
and my bones are breaking,
from the want
that tears me apart.
For the thing
that needs to be felt.
Needs to be held,
needs to be there.
My soul is aching
to be touched.
To be that cosmic dust
that molds into blood.
My skin is aching
to be touched.
To be that raindrop
that falls on the earth
and becomes one
with the filth.
To be loved
with your filth.
One with your filth.
My soul is aching
to be felt.
2025/05/25
There's nothing I can compare to the skin-to-skin contact. I would sell my soul if I could experience it just once in my life with another human being.
