Death is mad about you. Death loves you. Do you love me too? I’m not needy, but I enjoy intimacy—especially with you, darling. Go ahead. Slip your face into mine. I like to feel your warm lips in my inert visage. I like to feel your eyelashes tickling my empty old sockets. One day I’ll slip my face into yours too, and then we’ll experience another sort of intimacy. I’ll be inside you, like a lover. I’ll kiss you from the inside, and it will feel like catching a chill. You’ll get goose bumps up your thighs and shivers down your spine. I’ll whisk you to my wormy bed and we’ll lie there nestled in each other’s arms, or at least so long as you have arms. And even then, when you are hideous dust, I will remain true. I am death and when I love you, it’s forever.
THANKS TO SUPERVERT & BLUE ÖYSTER CULT