I want to write. I want to shoot moonbeams from my fingertips and make magic spring from words or images, like blood pumped from arteries, evoking excitement, frenzy, fear even. I want to feel touched by something that flows from me. I want to feel my breath taken. I want passion, and deep deep feeling. If I cannot have raging, fumbling, subversive love, then I want vicious rabidity. I want to be opened up, eyes wide, to color and lust. I want to laugh with drool and tears and pain in my side. I want the quench my own thirst, and yours too. I want to live damn it, more than I know how to.