clenching toes

writhing. bashing their

brittle faces against my own. your

mouth yielding a

satisfactory O.

syllable chiseled and etched

to that plasterofparis face.

-we were eager to plunge

into the visceral, (but)

ashamed to face the rational.

our plight was sensation.

where

we ate rotten

no matter how

putrid it tasted