Everything Stinks in the Jaw of the Beast

An arched red ceiling lies rigid above, a wet writhing carpet below.
Ivory curtains enclose the beast’s softness, speckled with scraps of dead friends.
Everything rushes towards the black sphincter, esophagal, anal, unwidening.
The roots of the curtains are pockmarked and reddened.
The roots of the curtains are bleeding.
The roots of the curtains are tender, soft, yielding.
Human faces embedded and raw.
The roots of the curtains reach out to the lips.
Sustained by the monster’s soft lineage.
Gingivitic, gingivivial, gingivital, generic bacteria creep and inflame.
Plaque erodes ivory, cavities emerge, and slime hunkers down in new darkness.
Cytoplasm trembles, enamel wears down, metastasis waits in the wings.
We have always been being eaten.
Some day a tooth may fall out.

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