Pure eyes, blue like a glassy head, you are always looking at me, and I am always looking at you. Ah, you're too meek - beautiful, unspoiled: thus I'm so sad, I suffer - and so happy, it hurts - I want to hurt you. And destroy myself. What would you think, if you knew how I felt - would you simply smile, not saying a word? Even curses from your mouth would be beautiful as pearls. I place my left hand on your face as though we were to kiss. Then I suddenly shove my thumb deep into your eye-socket. Abruptly, decisively, like drilling a hole. And what would it feel like? Like jelly? Trembling with ecstasy, I obscenely mix it around and around: I must taste the warmth of your blood. How would you scream? Would you shriek "It hurts! It hurts!" as cinnabar-red tears stream from your crushed eye? You can't know the maddening hunger I've felt in the midst of our kisses, so many of them I've lost count. As though drinking in your cries, I bring my hopes to fruition: biting your tongue, shredding it, biting at your lips as if tasting
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