My open limbs suction cupped dirty tentacles.
Sweet tendrils got sucked into smithereens.
I’m not angel hair anymore. Jewels
cracked
into visceral chunks writhing out
misshapen.
Green worms burst then crusted into zombie flesh.
Green worms burst then crusted into zombie flesh.
Delve in and swallow, and then spit
partially digested
bloody pieces, string out my
overloaded canals.
Hot beet thighs fuse with mutant
monster eyes.
Mutilated strands clog brain waves
down
drains. My heart is a disabled
fondue cauldron.
My cake hole dollops on/off garbage
disposals.
Please
turn this blood bath doom spurt into new flows.
I am an
alien witch broom created from pumpkin guts.
Let me rise up
whirring mango froth through thigh highs.
Let lightning
stings affix primordial feather-zings.
~Juliet Cook~
(previously published on Lingerpost)
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