Posts Tagged ‘animal instinct’


When your life is ruled by desire, where does the road to fulfillment end? When one’s existence is an endless sexual fantasy, how does one’s mind find rest and tranquility?

There is an energy that’s both vital and dark, and when it flows through you, every nerve ending and every pore secretes sin. And there is another side to us, isn’t there. A relic left behind by the heathen gods of sex and impurity, the lust and the ardor of long gone deities that guide the bodies of men and women as they fuck, playing with our bodies like wily puppeteers.

And what is sin, but the gift bestowed upon mankind to find out who they truly are. It is the tool to self-realization and freedom. Sin is the key that must turn twice before opening the portal to the other side of us, where the id slumbers, and breathes, and whispers things that feed off sin, and viceversa. The mind vicariously plays a tag game with darkness and the light, and in the realms of fantasy and devotion to the sinful reality, light does not always prevail.

So an obsidian night is inside of me, dark as a mother’s womb, and the force of arcane runes simmers right beneath my eyes, and in the heat of the moment, the puppeteers laugh and play their serpentine game of hide and fuck.
Desire is the bride in black, the maniac with a grin, and the ghost of your own fear. Desire speaks to you, sometimes loud enough to drown out the voice of reason and correctness. Desire takes you with the same impunity as an incubus fucks a sleeping female. Desire is the shadow that stalks your conscience, the mask that conceals the true face of your animal instinct. Desire is impish, and pitiless. It is cruel, too, for it strikes at any time, and the cravings are not always easily fulfilled.

There is a darkened room inside the id, a crawling space with only a sliver of clarity piercing its hollow. The animal instinct sits there, waiting. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. For some, it never rises. For some, the animal sleeps an unjust slumber, quietened by the aversion to reveal itself, its flame quenched by fear, and repression.

But others embrace its wicked charm, and absorb the power of its lure. The instinct awakens, breaking free of its moorings, and takes you over. And at that moment, the ties that bind your freedom are severed, and the beast is loose and ready to do your bidding.

There is no altruism in the beast’s intentions, nor there is pity, or a sliver of care. When those cabalistic instincts take over, the darker side of the id unsheathes its scepter of pleasure, and smites down anything in its path. Desire, as eternity itself, is relentless.

So the bride in black walks down the lingering shadows of the human body, ravaging men and women alike, for desire is not just the property of man.
And I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, as the song goes.