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Delirious - Kindle edition by Daniel Younger. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks, note taking and highlighting while reading Delirious.

I feel liberated. For once I don’t feel trapped.

You’ve drowned me in your feelings, your insecurities but I’ve equally made you suffocate on mine. Yet we don’t care do we? We want more. We can do this together. Time is irrelevant. As is distance. Breaking has never accelerated like this before. The crash is beautiful but not as much as the fall.

Like nothing before. This is unique. I know it is. It can’t be explained but my piercing stare and your retorting glance goes someway in doing so. People must see it in us. I pity them for not having it but my heart melts knowing they can find it. Like I did. If they stop looking. Put down your phones and risk yourself. Let yourself be human. Your phone will die but it can be recharged. So can us humans. I thought I was drained but all I needed was a source and to feel connected.

My negative met your positive which sent shockwaves that shattered our souls. We now hold hands and laugh at our broken corpses as we pick up the pieces together. We don’t need to hold tight as we know we won’t let go. We can be subtle because we know our souls hold tighter than our bodies ever will.

We don’t need to look at each other to feel the pulse of the wavelength we surf together. We rub off on one another a gentle soul is heard saying in the background. She’s right. God she’s right. She just didn’t realise how much those words affected me.

Our energies collide and light the darkest of spaces. The abyss of my mind. Nobody has ever been able to shine that far. Not until you held your torch and plunged it into the arid well at the bottom of my heart.

You found my last drop and diluted it with your tears. Now my well has survived the drought it is ready to quench an unknown thirst. A thirst we both didn’t know we had.

There is no green. No blue. No red. You see me as purple but I see you as crystal. You make light bend and refract as it feels embarrassed in your beauty. I see you close up though. I see that beauty from all the angles your crystal has formed. I see the cracks and shattered pasts that trap the light and contort it. Yet you’ve not been able to trap this light and reflect it back. You’ve let me pass through and for that transparency I have not the words to thank you.

You’ll withdraw that thanks in every stare you see from me. You’ll absorb that thanks in every stare you feel from me.

My inner beast has been stirred. Awakened from his lifeless slumber. Prepare to suffer in painful pleasure.

It is gearing up. Ready to rip. To shred. To destroy. From inside out it will tear you apart. It will burn from within you and fire the raw parts you think you own. You don’t. Not anymore. And you revel in this.

First your lungs will combust just so he can hear your last breath before the devouring commences. It will scold your throat and make you choke. You can’t slay this beast. Not like the others. You want this beast to slay you for once.

The flames will rise out and puncture your tentative flesh. The fire burning under your layers will be too much to bear. You’ll need my hands to soothe. To heal. Then to scar you over again. I will cut and cut again just to see more. To taste your veins.

Your flesh will quiver when I touch. As will your lips when I pause before them. Hold. Before you I’m there. Inside you is my beast. Soon the collision will occur.

My beast will roar as I hear you call it out in your sadistic silence. Speak if you can. Be silent if you can’t. He’s going to have you either way. You can’t stop that. You don’t want to. You’re under his reign.

He’s under yours.

As he makes you bleed he will bleed too. Blood will rain into the ash covered basin. You both will bathe together in your scarlet life.

As your bodies begin to drought your minds will begin to drown. You both let it. It is not hollow hope this time. Nor wasted time. This drowning is exptected but the pleasure is not.

It is this acceptance of fear that slashes the belly of beast. That is what has awoken him. He’s provoked. Ready to attack in fear of being preempted. Or emptied.

Prompt from yeahwriters: "I love you," without saying it." 

The bed had been pushed from the center of the room into the far corner against the wall. Ginger had a habit of rolling off the side and onto the floor in her sleep when she was stressed. Tonight was no exception, since she would have spent the entire day with her mother. Liam thought of the deep purple bruise on her side, the one he’d outlined in permanent marker and attempted to turn into a map. The inner lines had disappeared when the blackish-blue hues crept in a day later. He grabbed a pillow and fit it into the sweatshirt he kept over his desk chair. Despite its covering, the feathers always ended up in her disheveled morning hair, making her look like a molting baby bird as she chirped and whined for her coffee. He turned the T.V at an angle favoring her side and checked his top drawer for the cheap grocery store incense that was her favorite. A new string of lights had been hung on the wall; the ones that pulsed muted green and purple.

            His bedroom door swung open, the screeching hinges making him aware of her presence before she entered the room. She threw herself onto the bed, and rolled onto her back to stare at the popcorn ceiling.      

            “I didn’t think it would end,” Ginger said. Her phone buzzed at her side and she shoved it under a pillow.

            “At least it’s over for the month,” he said.

            “She called gran. We’re having brunch next week.” She pulled the blanket over her head, and Liam snuck underneath, propping one arm up to keep it hovering over them. Ginger wrapped a loose thread around her index finger tightly; fleshy bits bulged from the pressure. She turned her head, smashed her cheek against the sheet and hung her tongue out while crossing her eyes. Liam pressed his finger to the space between her eyes in an attempt to rub away the strained wrinkles.

            “I’ll go with you,” he said.

            “You’d have to wear that shirt, the one with holes. It might distract them.”

            “It can be done.” Liam rolled to his side and poked at where the bruise was.

            “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said.

            “The bruise?”

I regularly take diversions when I’m on a path to that place.

Not because I don’t like or want to arrive at my destination. It is more that I find comfort and solace in the journey.

If my life was mapped out, if I knew my place then I’d still take a detour just to revel in the now.

I wallow in the pellucidity of knowing where I am going but savour the reluctance of arriving too soon.

We all arrive eventually so why scurry? Relish the pilgrimage.

Rhythm is too often confused with repetition and consistency.

Irregular pulses on the stretched skin of the drums sound more natural and life giving than the status quo of the 1-2 beat we’ve become accustomed.

Chest to chest your rhythm fights mine as my heart expulses adrenaline fuelled blood through tempted veins. Synching together as your heart returns the battle.

The blood flows like merlot from the antiquated carafe of taste you’ve only just discovered. Bittersweet to the tongue but subtly warming to the soul.