A Big grit of Madness Posted to Hell

Roaring burst of flames, screams devour the ears of the living ones, brown and red, a scarlet orgiastic flood of fighting bodies, and us, the regnants.
Us prevailing.
Shedding meaningless souls, inflicting simple perfect cuts, like amazed sadistic childrens descovering new rainbows trough the open livers of a hundred imploring mens.
Just us, you, naked and hypnotized rocking back and forth that long thin knife, so many lifes you´ve stolen for the sake of Victory, how can your blade still gleaming, so pure and white?
At each unperceivable glance a man falls; and your lips curve, in discrete lust.
I keep slaughtering, jealous of the man that pleased you in the instant of his fall, I look sad and ragefull back in your eyes checking my reflection, hoping madness will not steal my fire. You stare back trough me, sweet reassuring, you kill a young boy kneed in armless pray wearing neither pity nor concern, but for me and my jealousy.
There is just the two of us in this boiling war, in this rumbling game where players wear either red or death, no rush you show keeping that pale thin walk. I spinn my fists and weapons in exploding gracious moves, twisting necks and smashing skulls, cutting troaths and spilling souls, to impress you: fanatic addict suiciding for my Qeen. Each fiber of my muscles flex to you, my Mistress.
I sacrifice each victims to your immortality, judgement or laugh as long as your attentions focuses onto me, for a moment, and nothing else.
Joker Warrior Slave of Love I´m, and nothing else my God.