Firestorm Tempest

Hot with fever, I have gone. 

  Body thrown. 

Enveloped. The still air. 

  Limbs bemoaning. 

Shudder's quaking of impulse. 

    Hot. 

Heart compounding. Breath dampened. 

 A beating below my breast. 

Compelled to an inner pulsing, 

  warm, 

  warmer, 

Gaining fever, gaining fervor. 

Insides, running with blood, 

 a sweat of the mind. 

Quivering 

  in hot, pulsing flashes 

Of you all over me. 

I have been rabid and feral like the Spring. 

and I can not see rightly, can not breathe to any composure 

Skipping breaths, and holding them in, 

as I relish in the closed eyes 

and hot tempest within me, 

Stirring storms.