Blood

Rising with the tides, with the Moon, with swirls of dust in the air, with wolf howls. Blood rises till it drowns every other voice, breath, conscious thought. Blood brings the animal and the animal knows no mercy.

To devour another person is to possess, to own, to rip to shreds. Because Eros always goes hand in hand with Thanatos. And desire...is the beginning of the downfall of man. Visceral desire that treads on dreams, on whispers, on discrete sighs. Its vise-like grip will not loosen till blood is spilt, licked, drunk.

I am sometimes in awe as to how fragile we are as human beings. And how powerless subjects we are to instincts. Reason is of course to be developed and praised. But how little reasoning is involved in the complete abandon to another person. How the body actually becomes the mind and the flow of erotic energy carries you like a furious stream would carry a leaf.

I am thinking about the Minotaur as an archetype for masculinity. The head of a bull, the body of a man and the prowess of both combined. Fire and brimstone! How is it that such monstrosities are the epitome of sexual predation? How could they not be? And what does that say about us as people?

Hm. The beast is relentless. And blood will flow.