244:which begins to burn heroin

-"What do you think of my eyes?" the corpse spoke. His breath smelled like a bowl of rotting apples, an intoxicating perfume that took me a step closer towards where he sat, propped against my wall. -"I don't know what you mean," I reply. My eyes wound their way down his naked body like mountain climbers, from the hills of his shoulders to the bluffs of his collarbone, and the deep valleys in his chest. My vision stopped to rest on one of the corpses nipples, the one where I bit too deep, and had torn the last time I slept with him. -"I'm wearing eyeliner, sweetness." I saw now that indeed the eyes had sunken, leaving the soft area around them to look several shades darker. -"Oh," was the only noise I could make. I stumbled closer, and knelt so that I could stare at the now altered eyes. In the space of two days, my lovers' body had decomposed almost to the point of ripening; harvest. Even in death aging was still a problem. The men and women I fell in love with, love still, have never lasted for more than several weeks. -"Am I beautiful to you still, Cutter?" you ask, your slit mouth frowning in uncontrollable, and perpetual sadness. -"Oh," I repeated. "Oh my love, you are the most exquisite of all creations," I whispered as I leaned closer, and pressed my thumbs over his eyes so as to massage the naked cornea, and run my fingers through his still bleached hair. And sinking down, deep between his bruised lips and and biting so lovingly, hoping to leave my familiar bite marks stamped gently into the soft muscles surrounding his mouth.