Desire...it doth burn to be fulfilled

...Oh how I yearn to don the homage to my saving Grace!

The ink, the blood, the pain, the touch of another...releasing what doth itch to be born and take its rightful place upon me. I long in secret that this will quench the fires that torment me. That somehow this ritual will appease the beast that gnaws at my soul. The sacrificial tribute...giving my woes a vehicle to leave me at peace.

Perhaps once it is done it shall shield me and grant me some respite, protecting me from those back-stabbing attacks of my former life. Granting me the serenity that to which it pays homage does so well.

For like the Yakuza, the Knights Templar, it shall be a badge of honor and tribute to what I bow to. It has saved my sanity and perhaps with a higher power done so. It is entwined in my being and so such should be displayed.


...without it I may not have been here today.