Fanaticism

I see the red, painting a picture of glory on a backdrop of victory.

There's nothing more beautiful than this scene depicted before me. The bodies dangle in such ways as to delight the mind... tease the senses, almost like a feather caressing my skin.

Do this for us, disciple, and you shall have the most glorious death - to be seated at the right hand of our goddess for all of eternity.

They told me what they thought I wanted to hear.
Glory, eternal life.

I wanted none of that.

I only wanted...

My blade slices their skin. My hands pummel their flesh.

Pale, bright, dark, pulsing, screaming, laughter.

Glory, pain, humiliation, death, love, hate.

I revel in it. It is mine.

I take from them, they give to me, I take it with pleasure and I revel in everything.
The red paints me now. It painted them and now it paints me. It captures me at the crowning moment, the glorious, and it is glorious though I never wanted it... the moment is here.

It passes. Too quick, it was gone. Yet I thought, think and yet will think again... it was worth it.

Every.

Single.

Moment.