pink paper pinafore.

the kiss is the beginning of cannibalism. issei sagawa cited that quote from georges bataille in an interview i read. "i feel like it stems from the same instincts of wanting to taste the other. although i guess this is just my personal opinion," he said. you're not alone, issei. in the dream i let the monster out. was so caught up in the pleasure of tasting you that i didn't realize what i was doing. i drew back, my hand flew to my mouth, eyes big. and they met yours, and they were reflecting the same sleepy delirium back at me that i'd felt moments before. they said yes, and yes, and yes.

you have an uncanny way with kisses. again my blood fell into crimson glitter. the heat seized me and threatened to make off with the top of my skull. the roof of the dollhouse carried off in a cherry wave. a delicious fever washing out reason. hanging on everything you said, entire conversations with no words, answers to every query. in turn i could listen for hours, seeking out your pulse with the palm of my hand, holding tight and following the hints you laid out in your breathing.

the whole thing started, in the dream, desperate to catch your tongue gently with my teeth so i could pull it all the way into my mouth and suck the taste off of it. pushing the back of your head. urging you ever closer, insisting compliance in lost languages.