As his strange and delightfully rotten words overwhelm my blackened mind, a pleased expression creeps its way onto my flawed face, for even the slightest rememberance of anything that he has let slip off his tongue fills my body with horrible pleasure and a yearn to capture him and make him mine. While I am distracted by this wicked attraction to him due to the passionate violence of his words, a desire for his inner thoughts to pour from his soft appetizing lips like blood from an open wound for an eternity engulfs me.
I have never heard anything so divinely ugly before, so my love for him to speak is essentially fueled by my intrigue in the alien nature of his words. When the time comes that I will get to hear his voice whisper these enchantingly diseased words, I will not be able to refrain from violently forcing those lips upon mine, those lips that those words have fallen from. I will listen to him for an eternity; even after the last tear falls, I will listen.