Cease what you are doing and gaze at me. Stop everything, save for the thrumming of your heart.
Theft, it is an especially sweet vice. More elegant than vandalism and more complex than simple robbery. A beautiful blend of secrets and crime and mischief and fear.
Like dear Heathcliff I am consumed by my all-consuming passion. Stealing is my greatest carnal pleasure, a pleasure for which I will risk my life - a sexy prism from which there is no escape.
Why am I this way? Who can know? Who is the slave and who is the master? Do divine eyes fall upon me any longer- or have they given up?
The rush of the theft allows me to forget all, and yet to distantly remember all as well.
Run and speak not, hide and run not. When you’ve found me, punish me, when you’ve punished me, kill me. Save me.
Little boy, there is nothing left to steal from you. You have long been an empty shell… just as I have.
And so, if you will gaze at me, cease what you are doing. Stop everything, save for the thrumming of your heart…
