The God Maker

I don’t chase love—I summon it.
I don’t search for connection—I conjure gods.

I crawl, salivating, toward their altar—teeth bared, heart open—ready to be devoured or blessed.
I was never built for soft affections or polite romances.
What stirs me is darker. Deeper. Dangerous.
I crave the divine made flesh—someone arrogant enough to demand my worship and divine enough to deserve it.

I’m drawn to monsters. Blasphemous creatures dressed in mortal skin.
Those who wear power like silk and don’t give a fuck who can’t breathe beneath it.
They speak as if the sky should part for their voice—and sometimes?
It does.

I hunger for those who breathe conviction.
Whose confidence reeks of madness and inevitability.

That’s who I kneel for.

The world is full of false gods with shaky thrones. I interrogate them.
I tear away their veils. My questions are daggers—if they bleed, they are not worthy.

But if they don’t?
If they smile through the storm, unflinching—
If their presence crushes doubt before it’s even spoken?
Then I worship. Fully. Feral. Unrestrained.

I crawl.
I kneel.
Mouth open.
Spit truths into me. Make me believe.

Because my kink is not impact or chains or play-acting obedience.

My kink is transfiguration.

I want the orgy that feels like a sermon.
Bodies tangled in sacred frenzy. Names forgotten. Selves undone.
Drugged on ecstasy and incense. Devotion thick in the air.
Give me chaos. Give me debauchery.
Give me the ruin of overindulgence and the gospel of lust.

Sex?
Isn’t enough.
I want sex magick.

I want to drink their ambition, snort their lust, and fuck their ego until it’s bloated with divinity.
I want to overdose on their godhood.
Split open on their altar, gasping holy hymns through bloodied lips as I swallow their cruelty like a sacrament.

I don’t want romance.
I want ritual.

I want the kind of worship that leaves the room soaked in sweat, salt, and the stench of primal need.
Orgy as offering.
Hedonism as gospel.
Sacrilege as salvation.

Because in this filthy, starving world, everyone wants to be a god.

But me?
I am the one who makes them.