It is a realization of an imagination, a magic station where realizations lead us to wild distractions that eradicate self condemnation. There are many doors in this room.
In here lust is commingled with cruel, where supple flesh meets blood and drool. We are tied, we are torn, we may bleed and be reborn. But in this place, we find life, never doom.
We play these new games, tame to insane, leaving us lame or in pain, but well trained. We gain a way to display our darkest way, but in light, in full day. Dark seed finds earth and blooms, no longer entombed.
Love is here too, truest true, reddest hue. Beaten blue before flowers, chained and bruised before hours of table chats, lover’s spats, every act is exact and seen through. A new love, by pain groomed.
Find yourself here with us. Grant us trust before lust, let us dust off the oubliette’s webs and exhume. Reanimate you, new garb fresh from the loom.
Welcome to the Red Room.