Pure eyes, blue like a glassy head, anda are always looking at me, and I am always looking at you. Ah, you're too meek - beautiful, unspoiled: thus I'm so sad, I suffer - and so happy, it hurts - I want to hurt you. And destroy myself. What would anda think, if anda knew how I felt - would anda simply smile, not saying a word? Even curses from your mouth would be beautiful as pearls. I place my left hand on your face as though we were to kiss. Then I suddenly shove my thumb deep into your eye-socket. Abruptly, decisively, like drilling a hole. And what would it feel like? Like jelly? Trembling...
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