There is a flower that blooms only at night when the moon is filling to full. It is full of mystery and desire, pungent, its aroma fills my nostrils and I am at once repelled and compelled. It fills me with fear, it fills me with hunger, it drives too close to home yet promises nothing.
My insides churn when I see its luminescence in the pale moon's glow. I am absorbed, possessed, all my demons coming home to roost and rumble, roar and cavort, quaff and quibble and squirm.
Here they are now! Behold Anger and Gluttony and Sloth, behold Lust, Pride and Envy. So many Sins, so little time. Hand me my Leather. Let me smell that Bovine Death mixed with your skin. A hypnotic perfume fills the air. It is the Flower that Blooms in the Heart of Darkness. It is all I ever wanted yet feared to be.
Do not pluck it from the ground!
Do not try to put it in a pot!
Let it bloom in the pale moonlight and let the Dance begin.