Reflections on desire

My desire is a sunset coloured, fearfully lurking animal with pointed bared teeth. It’s steps padded, like the first snowfall, so I don’t hear when it starts gnawing at my flesh.

I flee from it, while it eyes me, ready to run, somewhere between prey and predator – or perhaps neither.

It wants such strange things, all with one underlying goal. It yearns, like a trapped outcast, ruffled fur, wet nose, wide eyes. And if the goal is fulfilled it grasps at the intangible, not a feeling, not a concept, possibly a way of life, which it can chase, brought to human form, through me, until the end of life.

None of us knows, if it will get there at all, or instead with pinned ears a tucked tail and a hunched back it will concede. It may be even more frightening that we both tremble with fear at this possibility, it and I. Who knows which of my organs it would begin to devour first, just to hide inside.Rarely, at candlelight and on green fields it is calm with graceful steps and smooth fur. It sniffs slowly, indulgently. Not a chaser, neither chased. There is a place carved out for it’s body in the lush green grass, soft and comforting, which it desires, I feel the yearning.

However, the dusk is lit up orange, with the smell of blood seeping through, calling it to bite, claw and slash.