Between Sex and Fear

Passion

Perhaps we fear it, perhaps we desire it. Perhaps we long for it, just as choking lungs long for even a brief gasp of oxygen. Perhaps we despise it, perhaps it disgusts us. Perhaps it revolts us, perhaps the thought of it churns my stomach chyme to the point of exhaustion. Maybe you don't want this. Maybe you want everything but this. Maybe only those who know of it, know about it, and those who know about it, know nothing of it. Butterflies plague your stomach. The joy in gambling is not the prize, the joy in gambling is the edge of fear. The possibility of loss, of putting everything you know on the line for something worth nothing. Perhaps we are addicted to the thrill of the danger. I know not of that which I speak upon. But if I did, I would know deep within the narrow confines of my heart that by God I should stay far away from it. It's tempting. Somewhere between sex and fear, riding the lapping waves of curiousity, waiting to either be submurged under pitch fear or lifted into vast and unknown splendor-

"Shine bright, as you were."