The Existential Crisis of Eros

I once fired arrows with giallo anonymity
You could barely limit me or my endless possibilities
But that very same liberty, has strangled that infinity
Figure eight hands have bereft me of will, you see
Romance has a deathbed and lust has its motives
I've always pulled those puppet strings, overhead
Sacrifice won't suffice, I care not if that goat is dead
For your meridian, you simians you owe a debt
You see, my godly prod of that first salacious domino
Conjures something primal bringing corresponding bodies close
I need not spell out, what then unfolds
Divine is that firework display, no subtle show
I create, so you can procreate
I am more than desire, affection and the toll it takes
Pleasure has restrictions boredom has become me
Lest you forget, I wield the power to redefine what love means

What is love but unorderly death
The thoughts of an author, poured into text
More than just sex and maudlin stress
Caught in hex, yes... that's the coroners guess
It's learning how to fall to all you've confessed
A call to let go, of your caution the depth
Such a gorgeous mess of enormous breadth
A cause to defend until courtship ends
The thorn and the rose, a torture we blessed
It can alter your breath, 'til it's all that is left
Not a fool or a jest, so you ought to know best
Although yet, led to the slaughter instead
It seeps into your voids 'til the mortar is set
It's hard break free when your walls are condemned
Caught in the call of the meds
How can it cause such distress, if it's all in your head

A sickness of
Our arteries and veins or
Is it in the spirit of
Our mother nature
Stippled in the image of
Our artist and saviour
A monolith or pillar of
A part of something greater

What is love? If not divine excursion
A chemical reactions? Exactly how the science words it?
It underlies your surface, until it smites you worthless
Is it just the finding of a client who provides a service
Nah that's a sleight, disservice, the highs are wild and fervent
'Til you slide into the title of compliant servant
But when it's right it's worth it, those butterflies are perfect
It is finding purpose, a kind of righteous worship
The combining of two lives... Sublime immersion
Entwined hoping that our vines don't collide and merge in
Leaving tears that slide to dry until you hide the hurting
Until you think, behind every apple lies serpent
Oh... it is slightly murderous
Trying to confine a pride of lions, silently inside a circus
If you find it, ignore the worst of it and try to nurture it
'Cause many strive blindly but die in search of it

A sickness of
Our arteries and veins or
Is it in the spirit of
Our mother nature
Stippled in the image of
Our artist and saviour
A monolith or pillar of
A part of something greater