Years ago, I knew a college student who had very unique sexual orientation.
He loved having sex with dead animals.
He told the class, that was the only way he felt love.. only IF the animal was dying or dead.
He was arrested a year later, after being caught behind a preschool, having sex with a dead dog.
He was an interesting fellow. Always smelled like something dead.
Please, don't be too judgemental. All he ever wanted was love.
He was a poet, who enjoyed quoting poetry about love.
I want to sleep with you.
No, I don't mean have sex.
I mean sleep.
Together. Under a blanket.
In your bed.
While you are laying on my arm, with my other hand on your tummy.
With the window cracked, so it is chilly and we have to cuddle closer.
No talking, just the muffled cries that you slowly seep away from your blood-gurgling mouth, as I slit your throat and sacrifice your worthless non binary life to the dark transgender overlord..
Necrosexuals need love too.
Love is love.. or is it?