I have a taste for blood tonight. I want to indulge it far more than I should be considering. My mind equates the taste of it now to something along the lines of a pepper/fruit blend. It tells me just how badly I need this.
And so, I deny the urge. Wanting something this badly - it isn’t good for my own gain. It leads to a loss of control. So long as the urge is always under the thumb of my hand, then I control it, and it does not control me.
Still it is there.
It isn’t violence I crave, but blood. I’m certain that you have no idea that they do not go hand in hand.
It can be sensual. A sharp razor, willing skin, plenty of time — A tongue sliding slowly over each cut. Yes, I think I want it too much tonight to be of any good to anyone. It can, and often does, turn the other way.