The flame is miniscule and intermittent, I don't do anything to stop its growth; the warmth grants me comfort.
Each night I stoke the flames, allowing it to continue burning my skin ever so slightly.
The intensity of the flame on my skin grants me temporary relief of sorts,
bewildered by the temptation and comfort it presents me.
I'll feed the flame, just once.

The flame has grown to a substantial size, the burn and pleasure it grants along with it.
I must feed it, it is my only friend.
I feel reliant on it, for it is my only method of escapism and trumps all else.
Oh the burn, the pain is so much worse; my flesh seared and mind charred.
I must stop before there is no stopping for i will turn to ash soon enough.
I have to try, for me.

my mind feels scrambled as i wade away from the flame.
i know my pain could subside if i just give in but i must not, should not but the pain... it wallows within me, my skin aches and teeth chatter.
please make it stop, i cannot handle this without the embers.

once more,
just please relieve me flame,
i need you... right?
please?