eros cloaked in chaos

There is no fragrant field of flowers you wade through—a tantalizing vessel anointed with oils and pulsating with fervor, awaiting to be taken as a reward for your perceived valor.

There is only the smell of death mixed with sweat as you haphazardly step over endless bodies to arrive at the only one left standing, dripping in warm carnage, daggers still firmly gripped in hand. Slow and steady heat rising from her depths, seeping from between lips drunk on bloodlust.

My desire must be fought for. It demands a blood-sacrifice and a soul-pact. It demands recognition of the power it holds before granting access to the temple within, where your wounds are gently tended to with lavender and devotion and milk and honey.

Become nothingness before me, and I’ll anoint your feet. Give to me your life, and I’ll give you everything and more.