the burning wolf

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Steven Love confession

I consider it a masterpiece/

A legendary piece of art/

To fall in love and be together/

Knowing u will never be apart/

 

The Burning Wolf

            In this mind and body I am cursed, to be in pain forever only to release that pain in the very specialist of moments. I am constantly in the darkest crevices of my mind in the imaginings of pleasure, obscenities, and plots to sin, to fuel my passionate yearnings that do not disappear. My creativity of these things knows no end. My natural ability to entertain and create comfort in others has never given me peace of mind or happiness entirely. I am now lost between the decision of loving unconditionally and being the very thing my dark passion yearns me to be, I have lost the one thing in this life I hold dear. For what? For lack of control. For need of flesh. For addiction to unruly passions in bed. The one girl I dreamed about to give me what I desired, did all in her power to appease my ravaging. My relentless wanting of her, that to no avail would cease. And in the process I came to the realization that I can never be appeased, never satisfied with what is. Is to love not enough for me, could it ever be? So comes my curse of being in pain forever only to relieve that pain in the shortest of moments. The equivalent of a pill or drug that only will sustain what is needed for when it is needed. I don’t want this. I want to be continuously flowing with the moments of happiness and relief, with the emotion that comes naturally to 19 year old who knows that pain is a certainty in his life. That I can be torn to shreds by any foe, and then liquidated to nothing and in the end he would rise as if the beating were as minimal as an itch not scratched. For him to be able to coexist with another is his sole problem, for any person he has truly let in to his life would be burnt by his undying flame that is enticing to the eye and curious to the mind. But ounce close enough to tell what is there, they disinigrate into ash that stings of his taste. My beloved Nina has tasted of my flame. And the sight of every single soul he burns and breaks is a regret held in clenched fists that remove the focus from his sad eyes. His very sad eyes that black as night solemnly twinkle with an undeniable spark that allows others to release and smile at his magnificence, his irregularity, his originality, and his undying flame. But he forgets his own ferocity in how he is so easily angered, so tenacious to be correct, to be undenied. He hurts, he hurts them so much. They can’t, they cannot lift an eye or a word. He has won, no, he has lost all in the end. He wants to be as they want him to be, he wants them to love him so much and they do. He just doesn’t want to hurt them. But if he doesn’t he lives a lie. A lie of his true form. The form of a demon. A wolf that burns a silvery gray but reveals to be a fiery unrelenting red that he cannot control, he cannot subdue. He hated and despises all that he is and how he burns all he comes into contact with. To know that he is dangerous beyond belief does not put peace to him. So he turns into the lone wolf, an isolated being of talents. He has many talents and they are seen, from time to time, he allows the world to see. And he is applauded, but he hates the applause for when the time is right to be entwined with his applauders he runs to the woods, deep into the solitary darkness, so as to not be revealed. He is afraid of himself, what he is capable of, what he can achieve. So instead of being enslaved by himself he shaves his magnificent coat of silver and flaming red leaving him bear and vulnerable. A naked form of himself, unable to burn; to hurt. He is no longer magnificent but he can now come close to the ones he loves, be at peace. But they stare, in disbelief at his nakedness. This is their great wolf and yet it is not. He is not the same, not the great magnificent burning flame he once was. He is a slave to the desires of the others, he is their puppet, their show of entertainment that can be played however so they desire. And in his nakedness for fear of hurting them he does as he is told, he has no one to allow him and his flame to flow. There is not a soul who would ignite such a dangerous being to be free, to allow all to be gloried into one soul. No they are afraid and they do not trust what they cannot control, what they cannot puppeteer. And the wolf knows this. And he cannot be played anymore. NO MORE! He declares erupting his coat of silver and fiery red that smolders the stage and creates that very same spark in the eyes of every eye in the audience. As all burns and crackles the demon wolf forsakes his nakedness and now in his true form, undeniably destructive and magnificent burning flames. None such eyes were ignited as bright as those in his beloved Nina’s eyes. His reason to burn, to not be, or to be. The wolf sees his true mate the Fox of the Forest, the spirit that called to him from the dark shade in the depths of the woods. And he sees his reflection, his silver fiery coat burning in the depths of her beautiful loving eyes. She cries a tear that forms in the inner of her eye and trickles down her flawless face, the face the wolf believed the gods themselves had carved in happiness. Her tears were too much for the demon to bear, his flame began to die to wilt into silver, a saving grace silver that extended a feeling of peace and serenity to the on watchers. As he floated his fiery body towards his beauty, he retracted his claws and layed his head so his snout was low. The once applauders stared at his eerie glows as he approached the fox of the forest. She wept oh so bitterly and he could not take it. He was now close to his beloved and no longer felt the rage he once did moments before. They were close to the touch as he raised his head now filled with the silvery main of flames, his eyes pierced her with his blackness masked by the silver glow in his ambiance. He looked at her, for what seemed an eternity she could not look away from his furtive stare, his entrancing sadness. Her tears evaporated into steam from the heat of his silver flames. The wolf spoke, the demon. He said to her in a spirited voice that came from far within his depths, “I am with u… I love you, save me from this pain” she frightened by the sound of his voice but entranced by his stare, allowed her hands to embrace his burning flame of a face that became soft by her touch and kissed him tenderly to his snout. Then she retracted and said “I am yours, and will let you burn, for your flames will not scorch me.”

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