Greed
Something not RoyAi? It was asked of me and probably not what the requester wanted. A drabble about Greed (and greed), although I'm more of a manga!Lust fangirl. Nothing here but an attempt at fancy language. *sigh* Although someone's recent fic (who was it, flist?) has made me think about the chimeras... Ah, why are there so many characters in FMA (and as if Roy and Riza don't make my head hurt enough already...)?
Greed
There is something to be said about greed. Greed, that heavily syrupy word, honey on the tongue, bitterness at the back of the throat, a dissonant note that hangs in the air. A sneer lives in its enunciation, a condemnation in its insinuation, a label in its application: greedy.
Greed, that delicious poison, that miserly ecstasy. More is less, less is hell, and to have it all is to be king. Greed, that implacable mistress, that religion whose fruits and promises are as fulfilling as all the pies in the sky. To worship is to grasp that next acquisition, that next drink, that next bit of wealth, that next lover. Absolution in attainment, penance in constraint, heresy in satisfaction. Saintliness in shamelessness; godliness in selfishness.
To be greedy is to dream. To want. To seize reality and strip it of all pretenses, lay it bare, feast. Greed is ambitious without end, to have all goals and no goals at all. To pursue, achieve, and then surpass, soaring ever higher, aiming for the stars-to know that no distance is too far, yet to admit that no distance can gratify.
To be empowered and devoured, to fulfill every sensual sense, to erode out of the heart an abyss, ever deeper, ever vaster. To stare into the abyss and have it stare back at you, to marry desire and need in matrimony. Greed. A little piece of every heart. A dash in hope, a sprinkle in vision, a spoonful in love, a droplet in confidence, a pinch in faith, a dollop in lust, a trickle in envy, a heaping in gluttony.
There is something to be said about Greed. Just ask him.
Greed
There is something to be said about greed. Greed, that heavily syrupy word, honey on the tongue, bitterness at the back of the throat, a dissonant note that hangs in the air. A sneer lives in its enunciation, a condemnation in its insinuation, a label in its application: greedy.
Greed, that delicious poison, that miserly ecstasy. More is less, less is hell, and to have it all is to be king. Greed, that implacable mistress, that religion whose fruits and promises are as fulfilling as all the pies in the sky. To worship is to grasp that next acquisition, that next drink, that next bit of wealth, that next lover. Absolution in attainment, penance in constraint, heresy in satisfaction. Saintliness in shamelessness; godliness in selfishness.
To be greedy is to dream. To want. To seize reality and strip it of all pretenses, lay it bare, feast. Greed is ambitious without end, to have all goals and no goals at all. To pursue, achieve, and then surpass, soaring ever higher, aiming for the stars-to know that no distance is too far, yet to admit that no distance can gratify.
To be empowered and devoured, to fulfill every sensual sense, to erode out of the heart an abyss, ever deeper, ever vaster. To stare into the abyss and have it stare back at you, to marry desire and need in matrimony. Greed. A little piece of every heart. A dash in hope, a sprinkle in vision, a spoonful in love, a droplet in confidence, a pinch in faith, a dollop in lust, a trickle in envy, a heaping in gluttony.
There is something to be said about Greed. Just ask him.