Barricade yourself behind sheet thin walls: you have a lover and his lust. A velvet rope will suffice. As delicate as your skin. As sinful as your tricks on her heart. You pestilent child. Your lies as thick as her favorite book. Lies converge with truth on black nights. One covers the other. I could never tell what is what or who is who. The city stands over you and stares, shamefully. Those tricks are the work of the devil. Those sins are perfected by man. Caress her skin and lie upon her. Finish what you started. Every stroke is a lie, a crime, best seen blind.