The Great Nothing

Lack of sex.
Lack of sleep.
Lack of feelings.
Lack of will.
All I have in a fair ammount is shame.
Shame I cannot control my brain to shut it all out and live the good life. Shame I am such a pitiful fuck that has to have someone taking care of him. Shame of my constant backtrack, my wrongful second-guessing.
Yeah, I left it burning, hoping when I got back to being myself it would have extinguished itself. But now all that's left is the front, damaged beyond repair but untouched to the untrained eye.
It's a shame I'm such a dimwit, always taking things too slow, always dragging around, lacking a will, lacking a mind. Even more shameful I'm pushing all the wrong buttons, usually with delay. Nothing is done right now, and by the time I get to it, it's no longer the time for that, things have escalated, things have changed, it makes no matter anymore. And I let it burn.

The Great Bonfire

I'm the personification of fire. I burn with greed, anger and lust. I'm mad as a flame, dancing around, looking for the combustible that makes me soar. I consume it, let it die to feed me. I ravel in it's dying shrieks, for I know them only as my fuel. "And he saw the destruction it caused, and he saw that it was good." Not exactly good, but good enough for me, anyways. I have no intent to create anything but ashes, yet those ashes are the seeds of new lifes. I don't care, and promptly consume whatever I can get to next. Because, for all my power, for all my desire, for all my yearning, I still depend. I still depend on something available to be destroyed, something willing to be consumed. Else, in the saddest of the dances, I shrink, and wither, and die. Then, the only thing left will be the ashes.

That, and the wisp of smoke.