With a stark spark I begin to sin. There’s sex in my blood and blood in our sex. I tremble with chills of fever in feverish chill. The skin behind your ear resonates with secrets unkept by the murdered. Tumors pulse in the hate of your love and I relish in its agony. Tin foil peace pipes litter the scene of our sodomy. I love your hateful arrogance and I want to kill the look on your face. It is too precious to share with anyone else. I don’t understand this dance, this midnight trance we seem to repeat over and over. But I don’t believe in anything else so I choose to believe in this witchcraft of lust. You carve your passions into the skin of my back and I shudder in ecstatic pain. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some weirdo fink sex freak. But the things you…