• Hurricane Drunk

    by  • February 10, 2017 • * Safe for Work *, To You • 0 Comments

    Can you feel it? There’s an electricity in the air. It’s the way it smells, the way it feels, the way it wraps itself around you. You feel it outside, you feel it in your house, you feel it on your skin. It’s comforting. Yet it’s exhilarating. You know something’s coming.

    The feel of it is addicting. The thinking that goes along with it. The potential. The downpour, how it hits, when it hits, the wind and how it blows through your hair. The rainwater causing your skin to crawl as your clothes stick to you.

    You could be anywhere. Doing anything. With anyone. And then it approaches and you know it’s coming. You don’t know if it’s a sign of things getting better, or of everything getting worse. Your heart pounds. Anything is possible.

    The feeling of skin on your own, a storm in itself. The electricity of their breathing, a hurricane circling your essence. Baring yourself to the skies as it can pass no judgement, nature is beauty and only sees beauty. You are of nature and know there is nothing that lacks beauty.

    The storms as they pass, the wind as it blows, the hail as it powers down. You never forget it. You always want it again. It’s an intoxication, it coats you, it holds you.

    A hurricane. Ripping through the town. Though it has every power to break you, you’re drunk on it. The beauty. The beauty in destruction. The beauty in growth, rainwater growing plants. The smell of the earth as it meets the rain is the most passionate of kisses, the most stunningly beautiful union.

    And the longer earth goes without being kissed by the rain, the stronger the smell is. The stronger the feeling is. There is no love like this. There is no power like this.

    Destroying, growing, creating, passion. When you feel this, it’s a euphoria unlike any other. The clouds showering the ground with the undying love they carry.

    You will never experience anything of this. The aftershocks still shake long after the storm has passed through, as you sit waiting for it to come through again.

    Always in awe. Always craving the intoxication the storms give.

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