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Consumed.
Again.
Tired of this.
Steeped in desire.
So much so, that it doesn't feel like anything could make this feeling go away.
Could make this aching stop.
I would cry, if I had the tears, but I don't.
I would come, if I could come hard enough, but I can't.
It would just make this fire burn brighter, make this need feel stronger.
And I wouldn't stop,
Not until I'd worn myself out.
Till all pleasure was extinguished, and I was just left with this fucking relentless torment.
Till I was sore and exhausted and praying for sleep.
So that I didn't have to start all over again.
So. Fucking. Weary. Of. This.
Consumed.
Again.
