All your senses.

I wrote this some time ago, recently came across it. I did some minor edits to it, but thought I'd post it largely how it was when I wrote it. Let me know what you think. [I often write poetry, but I almost never post it - constructive criticism very much welcome.]

All your senses.

You’re a shell, you’re a casket,
empty, afraid.
Waiting for life,
waiting for purpose.
Come to me.
Now stop, stand still.
You’re smiling, that’s a start.
You’re starting to fill.
We’ve outlined your painting.
We’ll colour over the lines.

You flinch when I touch you.
You’re getting warmer:
Ah! Apprehension.
Good, I like it.
Lust fills you halfway,
the rest is dark matter.
Dark matter indeed.

You gasp, involuntary,
you laugh, surprised.
You breath in, you breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out,
breathe in, out,
in,
out,
in, out, in, out,
in and out and puppy dog eyes
and now you’re in to it.
Now you’re brimming.

Fire is an emotion,
and it burns you, you breath it.
you breath joy, devotion,
suppression, rebellion,
anger, repulsion,
attraction, confliction.
You wash yourself
in filthy-clean water
and as it sooths you
you taste your own blood;
a heart beating for two,
through the pores in your skin.
It colours your picture,
your skin was a mask
retreating behind you.
Hello.

Now step back. Breathe slowly.
In.

Out.

Look,
there you are.
Inside the fog? Steam? Smoke –
and there’s no smoke without fire.
Big enough for a forest fire;
even bigger: a house fire.
Memories lost and replaced.
A new life beginning, trepid, displaced.
Another location and setting,
new people, faces, friends,
new details.
Location, location, location
and you’re at the source.
Your mind:
it has moved out, moved on,
betrayed your body.

It leaves all your senses, together,
to burn in your house.
Arson on your home,
free to your next.