open the slow-healing wounds, and push your fingers into the gruesome cuts. admire the masterpiece you have carved into my flesh. oh the beautiful contrast of red and white! my body is your canvas; my blood your sacred paint, and if you should tire of this, you use your hands to carefully peel my tender flesh and sculpt your vision of perfection. as i bury my tear-stained face into the wet sheets...soaked in our sinful liquid. you say this is a labour of love, i am a welcomed sacrifice. all t...