Lying in bed. What?! Only 10:01. The iPhone 6 is a piece of shit. AT&T is shittier.
No connectivity. This means House of Cards will not pull me through tonight.
Scouring my Twitter timeline, I’m tossed into an image bursting with fever.
The vividly arresting hues burst into the sky and I can feel the heated frenzy as I gather myself to contemplate the source of my desire.
The Sakurajima volcano in Japan is erupting. And so is my heart.
The air is consumed with fiery ammunition as everything around this majestic event is soaked in the dramatics on display.
There is no denying this organic occurrence and there is no telling how long it will last.
The only truth is that it happened. It does happen. And when it’s happening it leaves evidence of its arrival and departure.
This explosive gesture fed by Mother Nature’s conquest is achingly keeping me aroused.
As I gaze even harder and longer at the images of fire and light, I realize that if I were to love for the sake of it, for the grasping glory of it, my love would and should shift a foundation.
It should burst on impact and send molecules of alighted ashes sprinkled across the open sky.
Sheets of silken lava should surround us as we dance under the stars we created.
The picture of the volcano stares back at me as if it’s waiting for me to initiate the tempo of my desires.
My longing. My immediate need as I lie under the covers holding my phone as if it’s my lover.
It might as well be. It’s the last and first touch of my existence.
A call comes through. It’s him. I don’t answer.
I’m enthralled with someone else. The one who makes a notable scene for my benefit. And then I respond amidst the delightful chaos that provides shaky ground.
But we are still. The darkness bright. The heavy ground is light.
My phone is dead. But the image is etched in my consciousness.
I close my eyes and then open them. I grasp my pillow and look above.
My eyes are dented with the fury of the blinding eruption. This is epic.
If I were to love for love, it would look like this.