Heart, Lung and Entrails. Strewn across the floor. You have totally disemboweled me. Yet you still hunger for more. Your passion flows ever onward. Between yourself and that lover of yours. Like yellow putrid pus. From a constant weeping sore. Though I am dying. My soul, to late to save. I will return to get you. For I'll need company in my grave.
Reason for writing:
What reason do I need!!!!!!!
Birth sign: Not entered
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