Primordial Rites

I walked into a stageful of people. I could hear their faintly thudding hearts , an Ameliesque beating that nervously tingled with the sweat of anticipation, vaguely walked around with their half covered legs. The tiny perforations on the ecstatic speakers trembled and shivered ,finally giving way to incessant periodic orgasms.

And the rite of engorging, cultish, human worship began.The half-murmuring, lip biting,jarring chants rose and fell in accordance to the reigning will of the masked speakers.

A drum beat , first slow , sickening thumping of feet on the ground, a rhythmic pump of life, a ancient ritual where the shadows glowed behind the savage bodies,and shook and raged as the yellow flickerings licked at them , murderously stabbing at their giant forms , a primordial emanation of smoke and the night seeped into the shadows as they quivered in virile splendour.

One , revelling in his own endowments and ecstasies , reeled all the chains of perception and bound them to him as he intruded upon the rigorous chanting of the fertile night.

The stage was darkened, with hanging emanations that looked like strange glowing creatures.

A disorienting mosaic of chequered tiles merged and spread in the vile semi-darkness, a dull dichotomy.A table at the edge of this cliff , had a book that blast forth a square of veined light upon a side , where colour pushed and squeezed and grazed and quaked against each other, an entangling of slithering forms . As the people stood in it , it carved upon their curved muscles a piece, or as if , they breathed it from their lungs , and it moved and coursed in unison with their spasming bodies.

Then the smell of fermentation clouded over the beings , in its wringing embrace and watched as the guild let their membranes of deemed fortification split and tear and blast in a copius flow of reservation.They were white and amber , vain liquids , slitheringly shining in the tungsten lights.The Ritual of Mock Freedom had started.

In joints of scattered people ,an escapade was hatched , as dark and ugly as brainwashing ideologies , an untying ,loosening of the knots of sanity , wreaking a helpless mind , subjugating a will to the endorphinal anarchy of battle.

The Fermented and the Anarchised leapt on the battlefield ,now heaving with the blood of the loin, returning to the stage , a shuddering urge possessing them , a bloating of enzymes in the blood , coursing through it .

The beat became fast and thick , a reveberation of the sensual instincts, the seduction of the fecund , the blade and the chalice, the unity of soul and the achievement of that higher moment with eternity.
Then as it began , it abruptly ended and the trance of pulsating sound , sight and instinct , condensed upon the simmering heat of the glassy forms , and the frost of the morning joined it in its placid journey to another reality.