TEAR APART.

Do you even understand the vast exorcism that is performed daily to determine whether there is a thing as a bad liar? It's not a question of principle but rather the simple equation. It’s an aphrodisiac those rendezvous in those stark hallways, surrounded by sweaty bodies and fluorescent lightening. The game is supposed to be in our favor.  The human body is all about hunt, and pleasure; smatterings of decency and trying to remain in control with our animalistic instincts clawing just beneath the surface. Laced with the subtle undertones of red wine, and the craving which becomes an intoxication heighten with every full moon. That delicious sensation which evokes the true goddess within every female. If sex is the true gateway drug, where is the underlying addiction, like any drug; everyone has a different reaction with any dosage. Like sunlight upon cold skin, the infatuation is only primal; yet it's within our she wolf nature were we shine the brightest. We are the gateway drug, sweet like cherry wine and potent like any good high proof liquor. Hell, the raunchiness of spontaneity to the complexities of domination and submission, the equation only gets better with each variable that is added to it, To the vanilla and classics, to the layered and multifaceted dessert. Playing with one's demons; the cruelty of seeking peace but truly coming alive during destruction; playing with fire never hurt anyone.