Because it’s too perfect.That look on your face that’s halfway between understanding and oblivion. That you’ve figured out the basics, but the specifics are still a mystery to you. That beautiful limbo between experience and not, knowing that every time I introduce you to something know I’m taking you a little further away from one and towards the other. Innocence turns me into a monster, gluttony for deviance overriding all other impulses.
Because it makes me permanent, no matter how impermanent the relationship. I’ll always be the one who introduced you to this, or took that away from you for the first time. Because suddenly I’m the bridge between who you are now and who you could be, and when all those bridges intersect a giant edifice of me is towering up, a Babel that can only ever come crashing down on you.
Because I can’t help but be mean to innocence. Cuteness. Adorability. Because it’s so well composed, carefully put together, that I can’t help but want to destroy it. Revel in the corruption, the creation, the cascade of an avalanche of a tumble that your innocence will take. I don’t even care if it’s genuine; fuck, it’s probably better if it’s not, because you can channel that descent that much more to my liking.
I can’t help but fuck innocence, because it’s the antithesis of perversion, and there’s nothing more perverted than fucking your opposite.